


I Can See Myself In Your Eyes

by lj0803



Category: Twosetviolin
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Medieval, Non-Explicit Sex, Out of Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:41:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 26
Words: 28,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25471813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lj0803/pseuds/lj0803
Summary: "Look," he said, his tone impatient, his voice deep. His breath was hot on her face. "Let's get some things straight, shall we?"She was confused. What could I have done this early to anger him?She opened her mouth to speak, but did not get the chance."I don't care if you're a princess. I don't care who your father is. I don't even care if you're pretty. You will be my wife and you will give me heirs. Outside of that, I don't care what you do, and you definitely don't care what I do. Are we understood?"***********He moved to wipe her tears, her skin ever so smooth under his calloused thumb. Emboldened, he tucked her hair behind her ear, his heart rate continuing to increase. Putting both of his hands on her face, he lightly pressed his forehead to hers, closing his eyes."What are you doing?" she whispered."This."
Relationships: Brett Yang/Original Character(s), Eddy Chen/Original Character(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

Sylvie pulled aside the window curtain, marveling at the beautiful green hills and valleys she could see in the distance, as well as a large castle that loomed on the horizon. With every minute that passed, they were drawing closer to the new life that awaited her.

_As well as farther away from the one I know and love._

Anxiety caused her stomach to clench, her small hand to twist into a tight fist. Her knuckles turned white with the effort.

Her lady-in-waiting, Sophie, appeared to notice Sylvie's apprehension, leaning across to place her hand on her friend's. "Sylvie, I know you're scared. I will be there with you, each step of the way."

Sylvie lightly nodded. "I know." 

But it didn't help her to feel much better. After all, in a few weeks' time, she was to marry a young man she had never met, for the sake of alliance between her kingdom and his. The kingdoms of Capia and Grelia had never been enemies, but had been less than friendly in recent years. 

As soon as Sylvie had turned 18, her father had seized the opportunity to fully ally himself with Grelia, not wanting to risk a possible future threat on his border. She hadn't fought with him; instead, she had resigned herself to her fate as a dutiful daughter should. This was a man's world, after all.

She had heard talk of this prince she was to marry, Edward Chen. Though he was several years her senior, he had never married before, and was rumored to be quite good-looking. Those facts alone almost made her feel better about her situation, until she learned that he was also quite the womanizer, seeming to prefer women of the looser variety. Great. Princes really could do whatever they wanted, it seemed.

Waking up a couple of hours later, not even having realized she had been tired enough to sleep, Sylvie again looked out the window to see the castle just over a mile away. Her heart sank. _This is happening, whether I like it or not._

They were riding through a small village now on the outskirts of the castle walls, with few people out and about as it was nearing evening. The small, sparse homes and buildings created a huge contrast with the royal castle, with its large, intimidating walls and numerous outbuildings. 

Soon they rolled through the castle gates, with Sylvie's thoughts in a million different places. _Will I like him? Will he like me? Will I be a good wife? Will I even fit in here?_

Rolling to a stop, the driver hopped out of his seat, opening the carriage door and helping Sylvie step down.

She looked up in awe. The castle was much larger than the one she grew up in at home in Capia. _It must have taken a decade to build all this._

As the other carriages traveling with hers unloaded their boxes and passengers, Sylvie was escorted through the bailey by her father, who had suddenly appeared at her side. "This place is even larger than I remembered," he said. Then, in a whisper, "Please be on your best behavior, Sylvie. This alliance is extremely important."

She sighed inwardly. "Yes, Father." 

Sylvie took the time to survey the area around her. The stables to her left, the castle keep with soldiers standing guard to her right. Soon they reached the great hall, where she guessed her future husband would be waiting for her.

Searching the large room of unfamiliar faces, her eyes came to land on a young man dressed in royal colors standing next to a taller man with similar features. This could only be him. His arms were crossed as he rolled his eyes at whatever his father was saying to the woman next to him. 

Her hand in her father's elbow, the two approached the royal couple and their son, Sylvie curtseying when they reached them. Her heart hammering in her chest, her father quickly introduced her to them, releasing her arm. She hardly paid attention to what he was saying until she heard her name being spoken.

"Prince Edward, allow me to introduce you to your future wife, Sylvie Li of Capia."

She curtseyed again, allowing herself to take in her future husband. He was tall and slender, though she could see he was well-built under his shirt. His face was an olive tone, his hair a dark brown, his jawline sharp and chiseled. She could see the muscles tensing at his temple as he appeared tempted to say something out of turn.

Sylvie looked down at the floor, a small smile playing across her face. Though he had an air of arrogance about him, he was indeed pleasing to look at.

Grelia's king was speaking now. "Edward, why don't you and Sylvie walk around the castle? I'm sure she would love to see her new room."

Lightly nodding, Edward stepped forward, offering her his arm. Placing her hand in the crook of his elbow and stepping out of the room, she could feel the toned muscles of his arm.

He walked her down the hall and up a circular flight of stairs. They strode in silence for several minutes. She looked up at him, his tongue playing in his cheek. _Should I say something?_

Nervously, she began to speak. "Prince Edward, I heard that you..."

Without warning, he jerked her to the side, pushing open the door to a pleasant-looking bedroom and closing it quickly behind them. Her back now to the door, she frowned up at him in surprise. "What is the meaning of..."

He slammed a hand beside her head, causing her to flinch. 

"Look," he said, his tone impatient, his voice deep. His breath was hot on her face. "Let's get some things straight, shall we?"

She was confused. _What could I have done this early to anger him?_

She opened her mouth to speak, but did not get the chance.

"I don't care if you're a princess. I don't care who your father is. I don't even care if you're pretty. You will be my wife and you will give me heirs. Outside of that, I don't care what you do, and you definitely don't care what I do. Are we understood?"

Bewildered, she looked down at the floor and nodded. "Yes, my lord." She fought back the tears that were threatening to spill over.

He opened the door. "This is your room. I trust you can find your way back to the main hall, yeah?"

As soon as he disappeared down the hallway, Sylvie sank down to the floor, tears coming freely.


	2. Chapter 2

A week after her arrival at the Grelia castle, Sylvie was doing her best to settle in to her new home. She and Sophie had moved what little she had been able to take with her from home into her bedroom and were doing their best to make it feel comfortable.

She hadn't seen much of Edward since he had made his feelings all too clear to her, and she was fine with that. If that's how he was going to treat her, she had no intention of seeking him out and trying to be friendly. _Might as well accept my fate as his unhappy wife._

"Sylvie, where should I put these candles?"

Sylvie looked up as she heard her friend's voice. "Over there on the windowsill, I suppose."

 _I'm so tired of decorating._ An idea forming in her mind, she turned in Sophie's direction. "Would you like to go riding? It looks like a beautiful day for it. Or perhaps we could practice archery. What do you say?"

Sophie clasped her hands together in delight. "That sounds like a wonderful idea!"

Sylvie smiled. "Might as well have some fun before I..."

A hesitant knock sounded at her bedroom door. She shared a confused look with Sophie, wondering who the visitor could be. She already knew who it wouldn't be, anyway.

As she was closer to the door, Sylvie walked over and opened it, revealing a young man in light soldier's dress that she hadn't seen before. "Hello, can I help you with something?" she asked.

She couldn't help but notice that he was good-looking, though in a different way than the prince. He had dark eyes and hair like the prince, a straight nose, and, she happened to see, perfect white teeth.

He appeared almost nervous. Clearing his throat, he said, "You are Sylvie, the prince's fiancee?" When he spoke, he had a thick regional accent.

"Yes, that's me." She shared another covert look with her friend. "And you are?"

"Ah, yes. I was assigned to be your, um, personal guard."

"Guard? Whatever for? I'm safe here, aren't I?"

He scratched the back of his head. "Of course. It's just that, the royals, well, you know, it's what they do..."

She decided she would be kind and put him out of his misery. "I understand." He appeared noticeably relieved at her words. "What was your name? I don't believe you said."

"Oh, my name is Brett. But that's not really too important. The only thing important is that you are kept safe."

She looked at the sword hanging from his waist. _Well, I suppose I will be with that on you at all times,_ she thought.

"Well, Brett," Sylvie heard Sophie say. Brett's head jerked in her direction, apparently not having noticed her until just now, his eyes on Sylvie. "Sylvie and I were just talking about going riding, maybe practicing some archery. Why don't you accompany us?" she said.

Brett, momentarily taken off guard, quickly recovered himself. "The king would have my head if I didn't. But otherwise," he said with a small grin, "I'd be happy to."

**********

The trio rode outside of the castle walls towards the woods, Sylvie's pinned-up hair falling free with each gallop. Brett carried the arrows and bows in a bag on his back, dutifully refusing to have the girls carry them themselves. He had taken the time to set up a few targets in a small clearing while Sylvie and Sophie dressed in their riding clothes and pinned up their hair.

Sylvie, enjoying the wind in her face and hair, did not notice Brett watching her.

Upon reaching the small open field, the three dismounted their horses, tying them to nearby trees. Brett removed the bag from his back and doled out the bows and arrows to the girls, who each went to stand several meters in front of the target assigned to them.

Standing next to Sylvie, Brett cleared his throat. "Alright, so..." 

He heard a small whistling sound as Sylvie's arrow flew through the air, missing the bullseye by a few centimeters. He raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"It appears you don't need my advice," he said, laughing.

Sylvie giggled, already nocking another arrow. _She's cute when she laughs._

He shook his head, pulling out his bow and an arrow as Sylvie's next arrow hit the outer ring. "Not so lucky this time, huh?" He heard her friend say, laughing.

Stretching the tight string back to his right cheek and closing his left eye to focus, Brett took his stance and let the arrow fly, hitting the target right in the middle. Nocking arrow after arrow, he consistently hit the bullseye. He hadn't realized that Sylvie had stopped shooting to watch him.

"Incredible," she said, as he felt a small blush travel to his face. "I wish I could aim that well."

"H-hey, you're not so bad yourself," he said to her. _Get it together, Brett._ "But if you'd like a few pointers, I'd be happy to show you."

"Absolutely!"

This outing became a near-daily occurrence, weather permitting, and Brett enjoyed every second. As much as he hated to admit it, he looked forward to seeing Sylvie. _I can't believe she has to marry that ass of a prince,_ he thought, shaking his head. 

Having worked in the castle since he was a teenager, Brett knew Edward's habits and mood swings all too well. He pitied Sylvie, her being so innocent and seemingly carefree. Edward would dash that happiness as soon as he had the chance, knowing him.

But soon the wedding was just a few days away, and Sylvie no longer had time to spend on leisurely activities, instead having to take part in last minute dress fittings and other small wedding details. He didn't envy her one bit.


	3. Chapter 3

The day of the wedding arrived, and Sylvie was a nervous wreck. Everything was in order for the ceremony and celebrations to go forward as planned, but she could not get her mind off of Edward and how callous he had been towards her. Not a great way to start off a marriage.

Before Sylvie left her rooms to begin the long walk to the chapel, Sophie gave her one last hug. "You look truly beautiful," she said, admiring the gown's draped sleeves and long, ample train. 

Sylvie gave her friend a sad smile, knowing that would make no difference to Edward. He had made himself perfectly clear. 

"I suppose we better get going," she said apprehensively. Putting on her long veil to cover her face and hair, she exited her room, and began walking in the direction of the chapel with Sophie, and now Brett, in tow.

************

The ceremony was beautiful. Bouquets of flowers decorated the chapel, with well-dressed nobles sitting on both sides of the aisle. Sylvie said her vows after Edward repeated his, his face barely showing interest in what was happening. 

She lightly took his offered arm at the conclusion of the ceremony, walking with him to the great hall to celebrate the union with food and drink.

The celebrations lasted for hours, and Sylvie was getting quite tired. Though all she wanted to do was sleep the night away, she knew that the night was not yet over.

She swallowed nervously when Edward stood up next to her, gesturing for her to leave with him. He led her to what she could only guess was a chamber meant specifically for this occasion. It was a large room, lit by candles, and a huge bed sat in the middle.

As Edward began to undress himself, servants she had never seen before scurried towards her, beginning to help her remove her tightly-laced dress. As soon as she was in her underdress, the women bowed and backed out of the room, closing the door behind them.

They were alone now.

Edward turned toward her, his shirt and belt removed, both having been draped over a nearby chair. He looked her over, appearing somewhat pleased with what he saw. Sylvie didn't think she had a bad view, either.

He sighed. "Let's get this over with."

Sylvie felt her heart would beat out of its cage.

He took her arm and pulled her towards the bed, pushing her onto her back and climbing on top of her. He kissed her roughly and bit down on her lip, drawing blood. Ignoring her yelp of pain, he pushed his knees between her legs and jerked her closer to him.

Grabbing her arms and holding her hands down over her head with one hand and yanking up her dress with the other, he roughly pushed into her, causing her to cry out.

Sylvie held back tears as Edward continued to forcefully thrust into her. _Is this always what it's like?_

***********

Brett had never seen someone more beautiful. 

Seeing Sylvie in her white dress and veil was like a vision from heaven. Her long, black hair, pinned up. Her slim waist accented by the tight corset she wore. The only thing missing was a smile on her face, the kind that reached her eyes and caused them to crinkle at the corners. He knew she dreaded marrying the prince, and he couldn't blame her.

He watched the ceremony from the back corner of the chapel, as was fitting for his station, his eyes unexplainably misting as the now married couple walked back down the aisle to the great hall, hand in hand.

As the mealtime celebrations carried on, Brett watched Sylvie's face from across the room for any sign of happiness or joy, but found none. She would smile occasionally at someone's comment or joke, but it wouldn't reach her eyes. 

Nearing midnight, the newlyweds left the hall alone, an apprehensive look on Sylvie's face, a disinterested one on the prince's.

 _That bastard._ Brett already knew what Edward would do to her, and it made him angry. 

Beginning to make his way back to his small room about a half an hour later, Brett was surprised to see Sylvie, walking quickly in the direction of her bedroom. It was customary for a newly married couple to spend the entire wedding night together.

Catching up to her, she flinched when he softly called out to her.

"My lady?"

She turned around, her teary eyes softening slightly when she saw Brett.

"Oh, hello."

He frowned. Her dress was disheveled, and her lip looked as if it had been bleeding.

"What are you doing out here at this hour?"

"I was just planning on sleeping in my room." She managed to crack a sad smile. "It's been quite a long day, after all."

"Well, I'll walk with you," he said. "I-if that's alright with you..."

"Of course." She turned around and continued walking, Brett close behind.

They walked in silence, Brett not daring to voice his thoughts where they could possibly be heard by others.

Upon reaching her room, he made to leave to let her sleep, but felt a small hand on his arm. 

"Brett, would you sit with me for a while? I don't think I'll be able to sleep just yet."

His pulse quickened. "Sure, whatever you need."

As soon as the door closed behind them, his eyes again landed on her lower lip. It looked painful. 

"Sylvie... did he... are you in pain?" He had the urge to reach out and touch her, but thought better of it.

She avoided his gaze, looking to the floor. "Ah, I'm alright. Don't worry." That small smile again, not quite reaching her eyes.

It was obvious to him that that was untrue, but he thought it best to leave it alone.

They sat down side by side in comfortable chairs before the unlit fireplace. It was the middle of summer, so the extra heat wasn't exactly needed.

He leaned his head to rest on the back of the chair, but perked up when she spoke his name again.

"...Brett?"

"Hm?"

"I... I know we don't know each other very well, but I feel like I can talk to you." He looked over at her, her head looking down at her fidgeting hands.

"What's on your mind?"

"It's just..." She began to cry. "I don't feel like I belong here. I don't know anyone, Edward might as well hate me and I don't even know what I've done to make him treat me this way..."

He swiftly got up to kneel at her side. "Sylvie, you haven't done anything. He has always been this way." _You could never._

She sniffled. "How I wish I could believe that."

"My lady, I would never lie to you. I promise you that."

"Sylvie. Please, just call me Sylvie. At least when there's no one else around."

"As you wish, Sylvie." He liked the way her name felt on his tongue.

Trying to think of something to say to comfort her, he felt an idea coming on. "Say, Sylvie, how would you like to go riding again tomorrow?"

Sylvie perked up slightly at the mention of her favorite activity. "I would love to," she said with a genuine smile.


	4. Chapter 4

Brett took Sylvie and Sophie riding the next day, as promised. Sylvie was beyond happy as she hadn't been able to go for close to a week. This was exactly what she needed after, well, yesterday.

After dressing in their riding clothes, the girls met Brett down at the stables, who was already saddling up their horses.

Looking around and not seeing their arrows, Sylvie called out to Brett, who perked up at hearing his name. "Brett, do we not need our archery supplies today? Should I go fetch them?"

He smiled and shook his head, a mischievous gleam in his eye. "No, I have something else in mind today." Swinging up onto his horse, he said, "Just follow me. I'll show you."

The two young women jumped up onto their mounts, giving each other a glance, and rode out after him through the castle gates and to the north, a different direction than they usually took.

Riding for several miles in territory still unfamiliar to the foreigners, Sylvie was beginning to wonder if Brett knew where he was going. But soon, they came across what appeared to be the shell of an old castle. Though not so large as the castle Sylvie now lived in, she guessed it had been a formidable fortress in its day.

She looked to Brett, who was smiling. "I used to come here when I had more free time. I haven't been in years. Now that I'm not stuck in the castle at all hours looking after _his royal highness_ ," Sylvie laughed at the way he spoke of Edward, "I figured I would share this place with you."

Hearing Sylvie laugh, he cleared his throat. "I'm sorry if I spoke out of turn about, uh, the prince."

"No, no," she said, still smiling. "I won't tell a soul."

He simply smiled as he dismounted, inviting the women to do the same. Tying their horses to nearby trees and letting them graze, the three began the short trek to the rear of the abandoned castle.

"So, Brett," Sophie spoke up as they finally approached the castle. "What do you like about this place? Seems a little, I don't know, creepy to me."

He laughed. "I don't find it creepy. I find it very interesting, actually, to explore the grounds. It's funny, though. Everyone knows it's here, but no one cares to visit or restore it. Beyond repair, I suppose. I've found that it's a nice place to find solitude."

He led them around to the front of the large building, walking up the stone steps and stepping inside. Sylvie looked up. There were holes in the ceiling above them, allowing sunlight to stream in in small bits and grass to grow through the cracks in the floor.

They walked a bit farther through the halls, finally reaching what appeared to have once been the great hall. "Wow," Sylvie whispered. The floor in the middle of the room bore a heavily faded mosaic pattern, though she could make out the shapes and colors of a couple of large roses, one red and one yellow. "Wow," she said again. "Brett, this is exquisite. Thank you for taking us here!"

Slightly embarrassed at the small compliment, he scratched the back of his head, looking at the floor.

"Yes!" Sophie chimed in. "Let's explore more, shall we? But first," she said sheepishly, holding up a finger, "I need to, uh, take care of business..."

Sylvie and Brett both laughed as Sophie ran out of the hall and out of the front door, looking for some privacy.

"Here, Sylvie," Brett said, gesturing for her to follow him. "I want to show you something."

He led her out of the great hall and to their left, up two circular stairways, and out a door leading out to the castle walls. As they stepped onto the walkway, Sylvie looked around in amazement. She could see for miles around them at this height. "Brett, I..."

"You don't have to say anything. Just enjoy it."

Walking a little further and resting her hands on the jagged remains of the side of the wall, Sylvie could see a small creek in the distance. Pointing, she said, "Let's go there one day!"

He chuckled. "Sure. Maybe not today though. We already have several miles to ride back."

"Of course. I'll look forward to it," she said with a smile.

***********

Brett stepped closer to Sylvie to stand side by side with her at the wall, close enough that he could only just inhale her soft vanilla scent. He was mesmerized.

He hardly noticed when Sophie returned from the forest, waving her hands at the two of them on the castle walls. "Hey! I'm coming!" she shouted, loud enough for them to hear her.

The two of them met Sophie back down at the entrance, with Brett taking the lead in showing them around. He brought them to one of his favorite rooms in the castle, a large bedroom. Sylvie could imagine the expensive tapestries that must have hung the walls at one point in the past, and she could still make out the small marks on the floor where the bed had once stood.

"I've always wondered who slept in here," Brett said. 

When they had finally finished exploring most of the rest of the grounds, they congregated outside the front steps.

"Brett," said Sylvie, causing him to perk up at the sound of his name on her lips. "Are you sure we can't visit the creek this afternoon? It would be so nice in this hot weather to sit by the water..." she pouted.

His mouth nearly went dry at the look she gave him. "Well..."

"Please?"

"I suppose it can't hurt, as long as you two are alright with riding a couple of extra miles back to the palace?"

The girls clapped their hands with joy. 

Jogging back to their horses, they were quickly on their way to dip their feet in the creek. "Race you there!" Sophie exclaimed, overly excited.

Sylvie lightly dug her knees into her horse's side to speed him up, catching up to her friend. Brett shook his head, smiling. _These girls are something else._

Not feeling bothered enough to race, he arrived to the creek a few minutes after the two young women, who had already taken off their shoes and pulled up their dresses slightly to wade into the cool water.

The creek was littered with large rocks, and the girls were making their way to the biggest one to sit on. Brett, removing his own shoes and shirt and setting down the sword at his side, ran into the water to join them. The sudden sound of splashing must have startled Sylvie, as she lost her balance and fell into the water. Thankfully, it was only a few feet deep and she appeared able to swim.

Sophie jumped in after her to help her up, with Brett not far behind. "Sylvie, my god, are you alright? I'm so..."

His words trailed off when he saw her stand up from the water, her dress now clinging to her heaving chest and body. _God. What have I gotten myself into?_

Swallowing heavily, he waded over to her as Sophie directed her to sit at the water's edge to begin drying off. Brett didn't dare to touch her.

Sylvie had begun to panic, wondering out loud how she would be received back at the palace in such a state. "Edward isn't going to be happy about this," she said in a worried tone.

She smiled at Sophie's next words. "Screw him."


	5. Chapter 5

"She _what_?" 

Edward was sitting in the dining hall that evening talking to his sister, who had just informed him of his wife's afternoon activities. 

He slammed his palm onto the table, causing everyone to stare, but he couldn't have cared less. As he stood up, he felt Belle's hand on his arm, pulling him back down. "Don't you think you're overreacting just a bit?" she said, trying to calm him down, to no avail. 

He jerked her hand away and stood once again, marching out of the hall without another word. _I'm going to teach that girl to never embarrass me again. Who does she think she is, going on escapades with that guard of hers?!_

Edward strode to his wife's bedroom without a second thought. As he approached, he saw the guard in question, whatever his name was, standing watch at her door, as usual. He was looking at Edward wide-eyed, apparently not missing the anger in his face. _I'll deal with you later._

Pushing open the bedroom door, he saw his wife in her nightdress talking to her lady-in-waiting, their laughter coming to an abrupt end as soon as they heard him enter. "You, out!" he said, pointing to the second woman, who, without hesitation, scrambled out the door, closing it behind her.

He all but ran across the room to his wife, who had stood up upon his entrance and was now backing up to the wall in apprehension.

"And you!" he said, reaching her and grabbing her arm, his breath on her face. 

"My lord, please, you're hurting me..."

"Who do you think you are, traipsing around the countryside without my permission? Did you really think this wouldn't come back to me? Huh?"

"Please, we didn't mean any harm. I just wanted to enjoy myself. I don't have much to do here."

Edward's smirk turned into a frown at her next words. "Besides, Edward, you don't own me. I am free to..."

The sound of his hand striking her face echoed off the bedroom walls, with Sylvie holding her cheek and biting her lip to hold back tears. "Tell me, who does own you then?" he said with a vicious smile. "Certainly not your father. Could it be that guard of yours?"

She looked up at him, shock evident on her face. "What are you accusing me of? I have done nothing wrong!"

He licked his lips, ignoring her. "I'll remind you just who owns you."

Pinning her to the wall with one hand, Edward worked at his belt with the other. She struggled against him but was no match for his strength. Hiking her dress up to her waist, he bit down on her shoulder, causing her to scream in pain. 

Hearing the door slam open, he turned slightly to the side, unclenching the hand that was holding her dress, letting it fall back down past her knees. At this momentary distraction, Sylvie was able to wrench herself free from his grasp, running to her bed to curl up into a ball.

"Why are you hurting her? She has done nothing wrong!" he heard the guard say.

Edward grit his teeth. "Piss off. This doesn't concern you." He clenched his fist, swinging it toward the man's face, but it was quickly caught before it could hit its mark.

The guard held Edward's arm in midair before dropping it. "Considering I am her personal guard, I think it does."

"You've got balls, I'll give you that." Edward looked in Sylvie's direction. "But don't think you'll be able to come to your slut's rescue every time."

Hearing Sylvie gasp, he pushed the man, nearly knocking him over. "This isn't finished," Edward growled as he made his exit.

************

Brett must have heard her scream, for he came running in seconds later. She watched in amazement as he dared to stand up to Edward, further risking her husband's wrath. She was just glad he hadn't been hurt, too.

_Your slut._

The words burned themselves into her memory as Edward angrily left her room, slamming the door behind him. _Is that really what he thinks of me?_

Brett hurried over to her side, sitting next to her on the bed, impropriety seeming to be the last thing on his mind. "Sylvie, I'm so sorry. I should have come in sooner, but I..."

She surprised herself when she hugged him, tears soaking into his shirt. "Please don't be sorry. I'm so thankful you were here."

Realizing what she was doing, she hopped off the bed, walking across the room. "I- I shouldn't have done that. Please forgive me."

He hurried after her. "Sylvie, please, there is nothing to be forgiven..."

"Where is Sophie?"

Appearing to be caught off guard by her sudden question, he frowned. "I told her to leave, to go to her room. I didn't want her to be caught in the middle of that."

She nodded. "I see." Turning to face him, she said, "Maybe you should go, Brett."

**********

Brett could tell that Sylvie was extremely distressed. His skin still on fire from her sudden embrace, he wasn't about to let her push him away.

He looked at her, hurt in his eyes. "Sylvie..."

"I mean it. My reputation is now at stake. I can't risk anything else, Brett. I just married him. My kingdom needs this marriage. Please, understand that..."

He stepped the slightest bit towards her, his eye drawn to the fresh bite mark on her shoulder. "No, Sylvie. I don't understand. Neither of us have done anything wrong. Don't let him get into your head."

"Brett, please, don't make this harder than it has to be. You've become a dear friend to me in the short time I've known you. But this friendship will only serve to hurt me, to hurt you." She was sobbing now. "I can't do this anymore."

He moved to wipe her tears, her skin ever so smooth under his calloused thumb. Emboldened, he tucked her hair behind her ear, his heart rate continuing to increase. Putting both of his hands on her face, he lightly pressed his forehead to hers, closing his eyes. 

"What are you doing?" she whispered.

"This."

Lightly touching his lips to hers, he kissed her for the first time.


	6. Chapter 6

His lips were soft, warm, inviting. 

Sylvie could hardly believe what was happening, but she couldn't find it within herself to pull away, even though just moments ago she had halfheartedly asked him to leave. _I had no idea he felt this way._

After the cruelty her husband had shown her, Sylvie was easily drawn in to Brett's gentle treatment. He had never laid a hand on her, had never spoken unkindly to her. Even now, though she could sense his want, his lips were still lightly moving against hers, not pressuring her in any way. Her first _real_ kiss.

Feeling him move his hand to the back of her neck, he gently coaxed her to open her mouth slightly, allowing his tongue inside, causing a soft moan to unintentionally leave her throat.

Suddenly breaking the kiss and clearing his throat, he said, "God, I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. I clearly took advantage..."

"Brett..." she said, lightly grabbing his hand that was now dangling at his side, causing him to look back up at her. "I didn't stop you, did I?"

He smiled widely. He lifted her hand, placing his lips on her knuckles. "I'll leave you to your sleep, alright?"

She nodded. "Goodnight, Brett."

"Goodnight, Sylvie."

************

Once Brett had left her room, Sylvie touched her fingers to her lips. _Is this what true affection feels like?_

Her parents had shown her little familial affection as she grew up, and now she had a husband who couldn't care any less about her feelings and who bordered on cruelty.

But Brett was different.

In just under a month, Sylvie and Sophie had spent a lot of time with him, as was part of his position as Sylvie's guard. But he had gone out of his way to help her feel more comfortable in her new home, to make sure she could have some enjoyment, things he hadn't been obligated to do. 

As she lay down in bed and pulled the covers up to her chin, she recalled his warm breath, his calloused yet gentle hands. _What would it feel like to..._

_No, I can't. **We** can't. Edward would certainly have his head. I can't risk losing one of my only friends here._

Feeling conflicted, she fell into a restless sleep.

***********

Stripping into his underclothes and crawling into bed, Brett lay awake for quite a while.

His body full of nervous energy, he ran his hands across his face, his mind racing with the events of the past hour.

Hearing Sylvie's shriek, he had abandoned all logic and confronted her devil of a husband, risking his neck to keep him from hurting her even further.

He hoped Edward wouldn't have him murdered in his sleep for his insolence.

He had heard the vile things Edward had said to her, had insinuated about her virtue. 

He had understood why Sylvie had initially wanted him to leave, but it hadn't made it hurt any less.

And then, above all things, he had kissed her. And she had let him. He hadn't felt any resistance; if he had, he would have stopped immediately.

Her soft skin, her warm mouth, her light breath mingling with his. Her small hand touching his.

_God, I can't stand it. I barely know her._

They were two different people of two very different social stations. If either were to pursue this, it could surely only end in heartbreak. 

_I can't put her in anymore danger than she's already in._

Groaning, he lay in his bed, only falling asleep at the earliest hints of sunlight.

**********

Edward positioned the woman onto her stomach, grabbing her shoulder and pushing into her from behind.

"Ah, my lord, please..."

Going fast and hard, he knew he was likely hurting her, but he couldn't make himself care. He was angry.

"Be quiet."

Not only had his wife embarrassed him by frolicking out in the countryside with her _guard_ , the guard himself had embarrassed him in front of his wife. _Who do they think they are?_

He wouldn't be surprised if they were in bed together at this very moment. _I told her I wouldn't care what she did, and here I am, caring. Dammit._

After several minutes, he finally collapsed on top of the woman, his sweat dripping onto her.

As she sat up, he said to her, "Please. Just go."

He pulled his nightclothes on as she left his room and lay back in his bed, not bothering to pull the covers over his body. Suddenly feeling a hint of regret, he wondered why he had felt the need to be so harsh with his wife. No other woman had ever caused him to feel jealousy in this way. 

_Did I overreact?_

Sure, he hadn't wanted to marry her, some random uppity princess. But when he had seen her beauty for the first time and experienced her humble nature firsthand, he had felt an instant attraction, and had overcompensated in trying to hide it. _No wonder she's afraid of me._

He recalled with bitterness their wedding night and how rough he had been with her. But he hadn't been able to stop himself. Something about her just caused him to lose control.

_But it's better this way_ , he thought. There would be less heartache if they didn't care for each other. Besides, he didn't want people thinking he had gone soft. 

That just wouldn't do.


	7. Chapter 7

As the months passed, Sylvie and Brett, against their better judgment, continued to share small kisses and hand touches in private, though neither ever allowed their affection to go beyond the innocent contact. Their relationship was risky enough as it was.

Edward had visited her just once one evening, coming and going with hardly a word. She had silently cried after he left, clutching the bedcovers to her body, wondering why she couldn't have just been born a commoner. Life seemed so much simpler for them.

**********

Early one morning, Brett made his way to his post at Sylvie's room. Pushing open her door and expecting to see the two girls sitting together as they nearly always did, he was confused when he only saw Sophie, who was busily working on some embroidery.

"Sophie?" She looked up at him nervously, her busy hands coming to a pause.

"Where is Sylvie? Have you seen her this morning?" He frowned. This wasn't like her.

Resuming her project, she shook her head. "She was gone when I arrived this morning."

"Any idea where she might be?"

Again, she didn't know. "I have no idea. I've looked all over for her, but I couldn't find her."

Nodding worriedly, Brett said, "Alright. I'll see if I can't find her."

Peeking in at every place in the castle he thought she might go with no luck, he thought for a moment, scratching his head, his hand coming to a stop as an idea entered his head.

_I bet I know where she might be._

Making his way to the stables and quickly saddling his horse, he noticed Sylvie's horse was not there. _I must be on the right track._

Hurrying out of the palace grounds and heading north, he pushed his mount a bit harder than he should have, worry growing in his mind. It wasn't safe for her to ride out alone.

Reaching the old abandoned castle in record time, his hunch was proved correct, as he noticed a lone horse tied to a tree by its reins. Tying up his horse next to hers, he jogged up to the castle, searching the rooms on each floor.

Having no luck, he remembered to check the walkway on the old castle walls. There he found her, sitting with her back to the barrier, looking out into the distance.

"Sylvie?" Her head turned sharply at the sound of her name. 

"Brett? How... what are you doing here?"

He smiled sadly. "I was planning on asking you the same question."

She shook her head, repressed tears beginning to fall. She hugged her knees.

"Please, Sylvie, you know that you can talk to me," he said as he sat down beside her. "Is something wrong?"

Putting his arm around her shoulder, he lightly tipped up her chin with his other hand. "Sylvie..."

"Oh god, Brett, I..." Close to sobbing now, she leaned over and buried her head in his chest, wrapping her arms around him.

He barely heard her next words.

"I'm pregnant."

Brett closed his eyes, the revelation like a punch to his stomach. He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised, as she was a married woman. But he still hurt for her.

"Sylvie, I'm..."

She looked up at him, tears streaming down her face. "He's awful, Brett. And now I have to carry his child." She sniffled, her voice a whisper now. "I'm so scared. I don't know what to expect."

He sighed heavily. "Does Edward know?"

She vehemently shook her head. "I haven't talked to him. I don't want to if I don't have to."

"Sylvie, he needs to know."

"What if it's not a son, Brett? What if it's not an heir? He may cast me aside, after all."

"He can't do that, Sylvie. You're his wife."

She scoffed. "Like that would stop him."

Brett knew she probably wasn't far from the truth, but he couldn't bear to think of that. She could never do anything deserving of that.

She leaned her head on his shoulder, and he lightly kissed her forehead, his thumb rubbing circles on her arm.

"I don't want to talk about this anymore, Brett," she said.

He nodded, unsure of anything more to say.

They sat in silence for quite a while, causing Brett to think perhaps she had dozed off. But he soon felt a light squeeze on his arm, causing him to look down to see her watching him. 

"Brett?"

"Yeah?"

She touched her hand to the back of his neck, pulling his head down to press her lips to his. Surprised, he groaned lightly, feeling a small smile against his mouth. She quickly deepened the kiss, lightly biting the corner of his mouth, causing him to open slightly so she could slip her tongue inside.

She gently pushed him to lie on his back, their lips still connected, and moved so that she was straddling his waist with her knees. Parting their lips, she touched his face, looking down at him. His whole body was on fire, and the view above him was certainly not helping to douse the flames. _Soon I won't be able to think straight._

"Touch me," she commanded, moving his hand to grasp her breast. As he lightly squeezed, she threw her head back in pleasure. "God, Brett..."

He swallowed heavily, his breath coming shorter when he felt her hands on his belt. _We can't..._

He leaned up to lightly grasp her wrists. "Sylvie, we shouldn't..."

She looked at him in surprise. "What? Why? What difference does it make?"

He closed his eyes, leaning back again. "It's not right, Sylvie. Not when you're..."

"Brett, I love you. Please..." she said, beginning to cry again, appearing to take his words as rejection.

He sat up, touching her shoulders. "Sylvie, I love you too, but this has nothing to do with that. Now is not the time." He could hardly believe they had just expressed their love for each other for the first time.

"Okay, Brett," she said, nodding. His arms were wrapped around her now. "I trust you."

_This woman will be the death of me._


	8. Chapter 8

The next morning, Sylvie nervously walked to her husband's bedroom. She hated to have to see him at all, but she did.

Knocking on his door, it took a few moments for him to open it. He stood in the doorway in a robe that showed more of his chest than she expected to see. "Yes?" he asked, disinterested as usual.

"C-could I come in please? I wanted to speak with you."

"I suppose." Opening the door the rest of the way, he walked into the room, letting Sylvie close the door behind her. Standing with his arms crossed, he waited for her to speak, appearing to have no intention of saying anything himself.

"Edward, I'm pregnant."

He continued to watch her, unmoved. "Is that all?"

She frowned. "I- I thought you would like to know."

He walked closer to her, looking down at her still-small belly. "Is it mine?"

She was incensed. Pointing her finger at him, she said, "You've got a lot of nerve asking me that when you have a different woman in here every other day!"

He smirked, pushing her hand down. "I don't believe it's any of your concern who I bring in here."

"And if I recall correctly," she said, her anger rising by the moment, "even if your accusations are founded, which they are most certainly _not_ , I believe you told me you wouldn't care what _I_ did, either!"

Edward rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'll believe you. But I'm tired. I really don't want to talk about this anymore."

_This man is impossible._

Clenching her hands into fists, she nearly stomped out of the room.

_If he can do whatever he wants, there should be no reason why I can't, too._

************

Several weeks passed, and Sylvie could not get Brett alone to save her life. 

Every time they went riding out in the country, Sophie rode with them, as was tradition, but also for the simple sake of propriety. Even though Sylvie knew what she wanted, she had her virtue to think of, as well. Being a woman certainly had its downsides, considering men like her husband could do almost anything without their reputations suffering so much as a scratch. 

It was almost _expected_ for men to fool around.

But, again, Brett was different. He seemed almost innocent in the ways of women, nearly always letting Sylvie take the initiative, save for their first kiss. She knew that he simply did not want to make her feel pressured, wanted to move slowly, and she loved that about him. She loved _him._

Early one evening, after mealtime in the dining hall, Sylvie hurried back to her room. She knew that Sophie had left earlier that afternoon for home to visit family, and Brett, who ate meals in another, smaller room with others of his station, would be returning to his post soon enough.

Approaching her doorway, she saw that he was not there yet. She went inside and sat down in front of the fireplace, the warmth beginning to heat the coolness of early winter from her body. 

Soon, she heard footsteps coming to a pause outside her room. Opening the door just enough, she grabbed Brett's arm, pulling him inside. Locking the door behind them, she pressed him against the wall, a startled look on his face.

"Is everything alright? What's..."

Not giving him time to complete his sentence, she lightly grabbed his face and pressed her mouth to his, gradually coaxing him to move his lips against hers. Once he finally relaxed into her arms, she trailed a finger down his chest and torso, pushing her hands under his shirt and onto the warm skin of his stomach. She immediately felt him tense again.

Parting their lips, he whispered, nearly out of breath, "Sylvie, we've talked about this..."

Her breath light on his ear, she said, "There's no need to be nervous, Brett."

Gently pushing her away, his face still flushed, he shook his head. "It's not that, Sylvie. It's... well... it's just not right..."

She pouted. "Edward is having the time of his life with a different girl every other day. Is what I want really so bad?" 

He sighed, closing his eyes and running his hands over his face. "Sylvie, you know what I mean..."

Tears beginning to fall now, she tightly wrapped her arms around his waist, the small curve of her belly pressing against him. "I'm sorry, Brett. I love you. I just..."

His hand caressing her lower back, he pulled away to look at her. "Why don't we sit and talk? What do you say?"

She nodded, sniffling, allowing him to lead her to the chairs before the fireplace.

Moving his chair so he could be closer to her, he took hold of her hand, his thumb rubbing light circles on her knuckles. His skin was so rough and calloused compared to hers that were soft and light. It made her feel safe.

Her tears having dried, she turned to him and asked quietly, "What is it like, Brett?"

He frowned. "What is what like?"

She cleared her throat. "You know, _being with_ someone that you love."

Though a blush creeped into his face, making her smile, his expression showed his understanding. "Ah, well..."

"Wait, Brett, you're not a..."

"No, no," he said, a hint of sadness appearing on his features. "I just hadn't thought of her much in months."

She squeezed his hand. "It's alright, Brett. I didn't realize. You don't have to say anything."

"I will. You deserve to know," he said, clearing his throat and pausing for a moment. "I was married once, when I was young. We were both 18, close to your age." She was 19 now, a birthday having come and gone about a month previous.

Her eyebrows raised, she said, "Wait. I suppose I never asked. How old are you now?"

"I'm 28," he said, chuckling lightly. "I'm an old man."

"No, I just didn't realize. You look... younger than that."

"Well, thank you, I suppose." He continued, his face becoming serious again. "Her name was Celia. I loved her, I really did. So much. But we weren't married long before she... she died."

Tears welling in her eyes at his loss, she whispered. "I'm so sorry."

He nodded, quickly wiping away a tear that had fallen unbidden down his cheek. "A fever, it was. She worsened so quickly. She was gone before I knew it."

She nodded sadly, knowing his pain. Her mother had passed from a fever when Sylvie was young.

"I saved myself for her, Sylvie. And it was incredible, that physical connection with someone I cared deeply for. My words can't really do it justice."

Squeezing his hand, she said, "I'm so sorry for your loss, Brett. I didn't intend to have you relive painful memories."

"It's better that I do. I have moved on, for the most part. I had to, for my sanity. She would want that for me, I'm sure. To be happy."

Leaning closer and placing a chaste kiss on his cheek, she smiled sadly. 

"Why don't we be happy together, Brett?"


	9. Chapter 9

_Months later_

Sylvie was exhausted, having spent several days in and out of delirium after giving birth to her child, a son. He had been quickly taken away, and she hadn't been able to see him but for the briefest moment.

She had lost a lot of blood during the birth, and she thought she had heard one of the midwives tell her that she most likely could not conceive again after what she had been through. _Couldn't? Or shouldn't?_ She wasn't sure at this point, and quite frankly, had no desire to think of it.

Laying in her own bed now, with Sophie and Brett both at her bedside, she considered herself fortunate to have such people that cared so much for her. Giving Edward his heir that he so desired had seemed to have had no effect on his aloofness toward her. Sylvie wasn't surprised in the slightest.

Feeling a light squeeze on her hand, she heard Sophie wishing her a good sleep. "I'll see you in the morning, alright?"

Sylvie nodded, smiling. "Thank you, Sophie. You're a good friend."

Once her friend had closed the door behind her, Brett, grabbing her hand a little too tightly, said, "Sylvie, I almost lost you..." His voice wavered, tinged with desperation. 

He hung his head, still grasping her small, clammy hand. "I'm here, Brett," she said, her voice hoarse. "Don't worry."

"How can I not worry when you nearly died?" Tears fell down his face now. "I swear, Sylvie, if you had died in that room, I don't think I'd be here anymore, either."

"Please, don't say such things," she said, turning on her side to face him. "I'm here with you now." 

After a moment, she said, "Would you hold me, Brett? I'm rather cold, even with these sheets." 

He stood up, wiping his face with the back of his hand. 

"And lock the door too, would you?"

He turned the key in the door, removing the belt that held his weapon. Climbing into the bed with her, he carefully wrapped his arms around her frail body, burying his face in her chest.

"I love you," he whispered, his words muffled against her chest.

She turned his face up to kiss him. "I love you, too. More than anything."

**********

Watching his son in the nursery from the doorway, Edward began to realize how very _stupid_ he had been.

The child, even at this very young age, bore a resemblance to him. And here he was, having all but accused his wife, who had nearly died bringing his heir into the world, of being unfaithful to him. 

Turning around, he shuffled back to his room and locked the door behind him so as not to be disturbed. He poured himself a drink and walked to stand next to a window, feeling the contrast between the warmth of his room and the cold air from outside. Kicking off his shoes, he hopped up to sit on the windowsill, deciding to watch the clouds pass by, thinking.

Sylvie had made him a father, that much he knew. What he didn't know was why he had insisted on belittling her and making her out to be a whore in his mind. Nothing she had done had provided any basis for his insinuations, or any reason to dislike her at all, really. 

She came from a royal family, just like him. She had manners, grace, beauty, even. Edward really had no grounds to complain. She could have been a perfect wife, if he hadn't made to frighten her off as soon as he met her. He ran his free hand through his hair. 

_I only did that because I was concerned that my carefree lifestyle might take a hit, though her habits were the only ones that suffered. I have been nothing but hateful to her, why should it matter to me if she seeks comfort from another man? If that's even to be believed anymore._

He sighed heavily, reconsidering. _Even if she hasn't let him into her bed, there's still something there between them, I can tell._ He had hardly spoken to her, but that didn't mean he hadn't kept his eyes on her. He had noticed the small smiles that had passed between them when they believed they were alone, the light, chaste touches they had shared. 

Letting his feet touch the floor, Edward set his cup down and put his shoes back on. Though it was late at night, perhaps he could catch Sylvie still awake.

As he neared Sylvie's door, he saw her guard, Brett, he had learned his name was, quietly closing her door behind him. Looking up and seeing Edward walking towards him, he straightened, not expecting to see the prince. 

"Your majesty," he deferred, in a tone that was slightly less than respectful. 

Ignoring his unspoken jab, Edward asked, "Is she awake?"

Appearing confused as to why he would ask, Brett frowned. "No, your majesty. Do you have a message for her?"

Edward shook his head, his pride taking a hit at the words he needed to say next.

"Just... make her happy."

And with that, he walked off in the direction from which he came, failing to see Brett's mouth hanging open slightly.

********

Returning to his room and making slower progress than usual, Brett pondered what had just happened.

_What the hell **was** that?_

From Edward's words, it would appear he knew about Brett's relationship with Sylvie.

_But he doesn't care? Why?_

_I thought he hated Sylvie, hated **me.** Why would he concern himself with our happiness?_

Brett trusted the man about as far as he could throw him. They would continue in secrecy, no matter what Edward appeared to think now.


	10. Chapter 10

One evening a couple of months later, the residents of the palace were enjoying a lavish banquet and dance in celebration of Edward's sister's upcoming marriage. 

Belle would soon have the honor of marrying a young king of a faraway ally kingdom. She would, in a few days time, be leaving to travel there, where the ceremony would take place. She had been made a young widow when her first husband died a few years ago, and had returned to live in the palace with her family. 

The time for dancing soon arrived, and guests moved to find their partners. The tables were pushed to the sides of the great hall to make room. Sylvie wished she didn't have to dance with Edward, but it was tradition. It wouldn't bode well for others to see her with who she really wanted to turn the floors with. 

Thinking of Brett, who was standing to the back of the hall with the other guards, she threw him a quick smile before taking her husband's proffered hand. As the couple began to slowly dance about the hall to the music of the small string ensemble, mingling with the others, Sylvie tried her hardest to disengage from Edward's presence. She could feel his eyes on the top of her head, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of meeting them.

When the music finally ended, she made to leave immediately, but he gently held firm to her waist and tilted up her chin, forcing her to look at him. She could swear he almost looked sad.

He quietly cleared his throat. "Sylvie, I..."

"I have no desire to talk to you, Edward. I'm leaving." She moved out of his grasp, waving goodbye to Sophie, who was slightly tipsy and would likely retire to her own bed soon enough. She left the hall and headed toward her room to settle down for the night. So much socialization and many forced smiles had wearied her. She longed for Brett's company, but didn't expect him to follow her just yet, as he was required to stay behind for a while longer. 

Stripping out of her dress and changing into her nightclothes, Sylvie grabbed a book from her small shelf and began to read by the fireplace. She had had much more time to read recently, as it was much too cold to go for regular rides anymore.

She guessed that about an hour and a half had passed when she finally heard a light knock, with Brett quietly letting himself inside and turning the key to lock the door behind him.

"Ah, so many drunk people," he complained. "I've never had much patience for that." He chuckled to himself.

Sylvie smiled, setting her book down and rising to her feet. "What, you didn't have even one drink yourself?" she said, teasing him, already knowing the answer.

He rolled his eyes. "I couldn't have one on duty, even if I wanted to. Stuff's disgusting anyway. I'm better off."

Removing his weapon and approaching her, he grabbed her waist. "I also would have been better off not having to see you dance with _him_."

"You know I didn't have a choice," she said, smiling sadly.

"I know you didn't," he said, leaning his forehead slightly down to rest on hers and smiling. "It still made me a bit jealous, though." 

She laughed. "Jealous? You're funny, Brett."

"I've been told that a few times. But I'm serious. He doesn't deserve to touch you like that."

"And you do?" She winked at him.

He jokingly pressed a hand to his chest. "You wound me, madam!"

She laughed with him, but quickly became serious. "He tried to talk to me."

He frowned. "About?"

"I don't know. I didn't let him finish. I had no interest in hearing what he had to say."

"That's probably just as well. God only knows what he was planning to try."

They sat on the floor together, talking into the night. Sylvie loved that they never seemed to run out of things to talk about with each other. 

As the night wore on, she noticed Brett becoming slightly distracted, his mind appearing to be elsewhere. "Is something on your mind, love?"

He smiled, blushing. "You."

She smiled back at him, placing her hand on top of his. "That's all?" she said teasingly.

"Can I kiss you?" he said suddenly.

"Brett, you don't have to ask..."

Hardly giving her time to finish her sentence, he pressed his mouth roughly against hers, causing her to softly moan in surprise. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled him impossibly closer, his thumbs caressing her face.

As he slowly pulled away to look at her, she saw his lips were red and swollen, just like hers felt.

"I can't believe I got so lucky," he murmured. Pushing her shoulders so that she was on the ground below him, he kissed her again, the sound of their lips moving together a sweet counterpoint to the crackle of the warm flame nearby.

She gasped when she felt his lips on her neck, his tongue leaving a warm trail from there to her shoulder. His one hand pawed at her breast while the other inched its way up her dress.

"Brett, please," she managed to say, her breath coming fast. "Don't tease me."

Meeting her eyes, he said, with all seriousness, "I wouldn't dare."

"Then please," she said, as he lifted up his shirt and tossed it to the side, "not here."

Without missing a beat, he picked her up, her legs wrapped around his waist, and gently placed her on her bed. Pushing up her dress, he said, "This needs to go."

Helping him pull it over her head, she almost felt nervous, lying there under him, exposed.

He sat back on his heels, taking her in, before she pulled him back down to kiss him. "Impatient, are we?" he said roughly, parting their lips.

Her voice was once again a whisper. "I need you."

Using his left hand to steady himself, his right hand worked at the front of his trousers as he positioned himself between her legs.

She once again wrapped her legs around his waist as he tilted her face to look at him, pushing into her. Her eyes rolled back as he groaned. "Oh, god..."

His slow pace quickly picking up speed, he pressed his mouth to hers, muffling her soft moans. As he parted their lips, she felt his hot breath on her face, panting heavily. "Brett, I... ah..." She gripped his back, unintentionally digging in her fingernails.

Pressing a kiss to the curve of her neck, he whispered, "I like it when you say my name."


	11. Chapter 11

She thought he was beautiful.

His pale face flushed from exertion, his slightly parted mouth breathing warm air onto her skin, his eyes closed in concentration. 

His solid chest that was smooth to her touch, his toned arms holding himself steady on either side of her head, the tendons so prominently taut in his neck.

_A masterpiece._

Moving her hand from where it clung to his back, through his dark hair and to his face, her heart skipped a beat when he slowly opened his eyes and smiled at her. _I wish this moment could last forever._

Closing his eyes yet again, he lowered his forehead to rest on hers, their mouths not quite touching. Feeling bold, she took his lower lip between her teeth and lightly bit down, causing him to gasp in pleasant surprise.

After a few moments, she noticed his movements beginning to slow. As he started to pull away from her, she held him in place with her legs, causing him to look down at her in surprise.

"Sylvie," he whispered, "please. I won't last much longer."

She nodded. "It's alright. I promise."

His hips soon coming to a stop, he all but collapsed on top of her, stifling his moan in the curve of her neck.

He lay there for a moment, panting, before rolling onto his side and taking her into his arms. She wrapped her arms around him and nuzzled her face into his chest. 

Gently turning up her chin to search her eyes, he asked her, "Does that answer your question?"

************

They both lay in silence, listening to nothing but the other's light breathing.

His breaths eventually started coming softer and steadier, and, looking at his face, Sylvie could tell he was asleep.

_He's mine, all mine._

Tucking a stray hair back behind his ear, she snuggled closer to him, listening to his heart beat a steady rhythm next to her head.

_So this is what it feels like._

***********

Brett woke up early the next morning, feeling the pressure of Sylvie's head and arm on his chest. Not wanting to wake her, he decided to lay in bed for a while longer. 

Heat crept into his face as he recalled the events of the previous night. _It really happened._ He hoped Sylvie didn't regret anything. He certainly didn't. 

He couldn't get the sound of her saying his name out of his head, or the feeling of her bare skin on his.

He ran his hand over his face.

Even though he didn't regret it, he felt slightly guilty since she was married. He wondered how Edward would react, should he find out, even though he had not appeared angry that day at seeing Brett leave her room. But his mood could change instantly, and Brett still felt the need to protect her from him.

Feeling Sylvie stir and move her head from his chest, Brett looked down at her only to see her watching him, smiling.

He cupped her face and kissed her lightly. "Good morning, love. Did you sleep well?"

She nodded happily, wrapping her arms tighter around him. "Yes. You're so warm."

Smiling, he ran his fingers through her long dark hair. "I'm glad."

After a few moments, he said softly, "Sylvie?"

She looked up to meet his eyes. "Mm hmm?"

"I hope you don't... I mean... do you..." She watched him curiously. He cleared his throat. "Are you alright with, um, what happened last night?"

"Oh, Brett," she said, a concerned look on her face. "Of course I am. How could you think otherwise?"

Nervously, he avoided her eyes. "Well, you are married..."

"And?"

"Um, I don't know, just this morning I was thinking and..."

Pressing her finger to his lips to silence him, she quickly swung her leg over to straddle him. Leaning down to kiss him, her long hair fell on either side of his face, tickling him. Heat beginning to pool heavily in his stomach, he grabbed at her waist.  
Whispering, she said, "What were you saying?"

"I... oh god..."

He threw his head back as she adjusted her hips, taking him inside her. He gripped her hips even harder as she slowly moved on top of him.

Squeezing his eyes shut and attempting to steady his breathing, he felt her breath on his face.

"Brett," she whispered, causing him to open his eyes to meet hers. "I don't regret anything."

***********

Edward had seriously considered getting drunk during the banquet, but had decided against it. He was glad he hadn't when it had come time to dance, and he could relish the feeling of Sylvie's small waist under his hands.

He had begun to care for her from afar, and he didn't know if he liked the feeling or not. 

Once the music had stopped and his hands had left her hips and hers the back of his neck, he had tried to say something to her, to perhaps suggest that they could speak in private, but she had shut him down almost as soon as he had opened his mouth.

_How can I blame her?_

He had stood there awkwardly for a good minute after she had turned on her heel and walked away before leaving for his bedroom. He had no desire to socialize anymore.

Reaching his room, he realized he had developed a painful headache. He sat at the edge of his bed, removing his shoes and shirt and tossing them to the floor. He would sleep in his trousers tonight.

Hunched over, he placed his head in his hands, massaging his temples with his thumbs. He briefly considered having a drink to take the edge off of the pain, but didn't when he realized he probably wouldn't stop at just one. _I suppose I'll just sleep it off._

Laying his head back on a pillow and spreading his arms out on either side of him, he closed his eyes, knowing sleep would be slow in coming. 

**********

The next morning, Edward woke up slightly later than usual, but still early. Thankfully, his headache was gone.

Throwing on a new shirt, he opened his door and, upon seeing a servant passing by, requested for breakfast to be brought to his room. He couldn't be bothered to eat with the rest of his family this morning. _Besides,_ he thought, _they're probably all hungover._ He was surprised if they would even show up in the dining hall at this hour.

After eating his small meal on his bed, he placed his plates to the side and began to think. _Maybe I should try to talk to her again. She's usually awake and ready at this hour._

Quietly exiting his room and walking in the direction of Sylvie's, he nervously thought over what he might say, what words she might listen to. 

But, as he stood outside her door, preparing to knock, he heard something he should have expected but did not anticipate, causing his closed fist to drop back to his side.

The thick wooden door muffled the strangled moan leaving his wife's mouth. 

"Brett..."


	12. Chapter 12

Edward continued to avoid Sylvie for days, even after they had all arrived at the palace where his sister would soon be getting married. 

It took nearly a week to travel, and once they arrived and were shown the rooms in which they would be staying, Edward was exhausted and collapsed on the large bed in his room, sleeping for hours.

The wedding was in a few days, and though Edward didn't have much responsibility in preparing for it, he still felt stressed. It reminded him of his own marriage and how horrible he had caused it to be, awful enough to push his wife into another man's arms. Quite literally.

Even though he had initially been jealous enough to believe Sylvie was being unfaithful to him, at the time he hadn't had any valid reason to believe it was actually true. But now he did, and he couldn't bring himself to be angry. _It's my own fault, after all._

He just hoped she was happy.

**********

The day of the wedding came and went, and Belle had been a beautiful bride. Edward was very happy for her, as it appeared that the couple were well-suited for one another. Every time he looked her way at the wedding banquet, she had a smile on her face.

Edward wished he could muster up a genuine smile as well.

Once the festivities began to die down, he kissed his sister on the cheek, giving her one last congratulations, and made his exit. He had noticed that Sylvie had just left, as well.

Quietly falling in step far behind her so as not to alarm her, Edward followed her down the hall and up a flight of stairs to her room. He knew Brett would not be there, and he hoped to speak with her, finally.

He waited behind for a moment after she closed her door until he was sure she was settled in. Letting himself in, he watched her do a double take as she realized who had entered. 

"Edward?" she said, confused, rising to her feet from the couch she was sitting on. "What do you want?"

He thought she looked beautiful in her nightdress that fell past her knees and with her long hair now in a single braid that fell over her shoulder. 

He swallowed. "Sylvie, I... I wanted to talk."

"About what? What could you possibly have to say?"

Looking at the floor and holding his hands behind his back, he said quietly, "I wanted to say..." He cleared his throat. "I am sorry."

Her mouth hung open for a split second before she caught herself and quickly snapped it shut. "You... what?" 

"I realized how awful I've been to you, and I thought you should know. I'm sorry," he repeated.

"Edward, I..." She shook her head, trying to understand. "If this is some scheme to get me in bed with you, it won't..."

His eyes shot up to look at her, his brow furrowed, studying her. He should have seen this coming. "Sylvie, I swear, it's nothing like that. I..."

"You what? Edward, you hurt me, you humiliated me, you... I could've died having your son, but still you kept your silence. If it's another heir you're after, you're out of luck. I..." Her voice nearly broke. "I can't have anymore."

She took a step back as he slowly approached her, his eyes wide in surprise. "What... Are you serious? No one told me..."

"Yes, _Edward,_ I'm serious. I would never jest about such a thing. I don't have a cold heart like you."

It hurt. But he had no words. He deserved every jab she threw his way.

His eyes misting, he hung his head. "I... I did this to you. I'm so sorry..."

"Listen, I don't know and I don't care to know why you're acting this way. If you're finished, could you please leave? I'm quite tired," she said, arms crossed in front of her chest.

He nodded soberly. But, catching himself before he got too far, he turned back around and faced her again, looking her in the eye.

"Do you love him?"

She stared at him, her lips slightly parted in surprise. 

"I know you've let him into your bed. But does he have your heart, too?"

He could see the muscles tensing in her jaw. Gritting her teeth, she said in a low voice, "Get out."

***********

Once Edward had finally left, Sylvie all but collapsed on her couch. 

She had refused to incriminate herself, but they both already knew the answer.

_Oh god. What if he hurts Brett?_

She hurried towards the door to warn him, but soon stopped in her tracks, realizing she was no longer dressed in appropriate attire. She also remembered that Brett's room here was in close proximity to others, and neither could risk being caught in this unfamiliar environment. It would have to wait until morning.

Laying in bed, she pondered Edward's sudden change in attitude. If it really was a change, that is, and he wasn't trying to play her. He had almost seemed sincere, but, recalling Brett's words, his mood could change easily. She wasn't about to believe him.

_I know you've let him into your bed._ How would he know that?

***********

Early the next morning, Brett surreptitiously let himself into Sylvie's room to check on her, making sure no one was following him. 

Barely having closed the door behind himself, he felt a small tug on his arm pulling him to the far side of the room. Sylvie, hair mussed from sleep, had a slight panicked look on her face. She must have been waiting for him.

Turning to face him and still grasping his arm, she quietly said, "Edward knows, Brett."

He took a moment to let her words sink in. "H-he does? About what exactly?" he asked, fearing he already knew the answer.

"I don't know how, but he knows that we, well, that we've been intimate..."

Feeling the blood leave his face, he avoided her eyes and simply said, "I see."

Suddenly her hands were on his face, pleading. "Brett, please! What if he tries to hurt you?"

Gently pulling her hands away and squeezing them in an effort to be comforting, he replied, "It's nothing I can't handle, Sylvie. I promise."

Softly nodding, she hugged him tightly.


	13. Chapter 13

Once everyone had returned to the palace in Grelia and began to settle in, Brett became anxious. He was wary walking the familiar halls, unsure if perhaps someone lay in wait to slit his throat on the prince's command.

But nothing of the sort happened.

He and Sylvie continued to be secretive, with no looks or quick touches outside of their own rooms. Weeks passed and Brett almost hated himself for partially letting his guard down, but his suspicion was waning.

**********

Though Edward didn't like it, the trio continued to go on regular rides outside the palace grounds. 

Sylvie and Brett usually rode side by side, with Sophie on the other side of her friend.

Well aware of their relationship, she smiled as she watched them talk excitedly.

As they neared the old castle, they tied up their horses, with Brett dismounting first to assist Sylvie. Sylvie was more than capable of getting down by herself, but she knew it made him happy to help her.

Continuing to hold her hand after helping her down, he intertwined her small fingers with his. She loved the feeling of his rough, warm hand covering her own.

The three ascended two flights of circular stairways to reach the castle walkway, where they oftentimes sat and watched the clouds pass by, and sometimes even detected shapes in their soft forms.

"You two are just the epitome of a lovely relationship," Sophie said, as they sat with their backs to the crumbling wall, Sylvie's head on Brett's shoulder. She laughed when they both blushed.

Sylvie moved her head up, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "Erm, we can sit normally if this makes you uncomfortable..."

Sophie waved her hand, smiling again. "No, no, no. I don't mind. I don't know about you but I have some clouds to watch."

They leaned their heads back, Sylvie's now resting against her lover's. "I think that one looks a little bit like a cat," she said, pointing.

Brett's eyes followed to where she was pointing. "Oh, that one? That almost looks more like a rabbit to me."

Sylvie rolled her eyes. _It's definitely a cat._

************

Brett relished the feeling of Sylvie's hand in his. As the three of them watched the clouds and ate the small picnic they had packed, he marveled at how small her hands were.

He had always thought that his hands were not particularly large, especially for a man, but they were big compared to hers. And rough, too. Hers couldn't be softer.

He absentmindedly watched as his thumb stroked the back of her hand. He was somewhat startled when he heard Sophie say his name.

"Brett?"

He blinked, bringing himself back to the present. "Hm?"

"It's a couple hours past midday. Should we be heading back now?" Sophie said.

"O-oh yes, you're right." He moved to help pack away leftover food and the blanket they had brought to sit on.

Standing up, they began the short trek back to their horses. After securing the picnic items in a bag hanging from his saddle and untying his horse from the tree, Brett felt a small hand on his arm.

"Could I ride with you?" 

He beamed. "Of course."

He put his hands on Sylvie's waist to help her climb up before tying her horse's reins to his saddle so he wouldn't run off. Taking his seat behind her, he grabbed the reins and the three began heading south.

Sylvie's back was pressed against his chest, and her head leaned on his shoulder.

He thought his heart would burst from sheer happiness.

**********

His father slammed a fist onto the table. Edward flinched but didn't look up.

"This is purely unacceptable, Edward. Unacceptable."

The king had recently learned of his daughter-in-law's ongoing affair, and was livid.

"You cannot have people thinking that you are a cuckold. That is weak. What do you plan on doing about it?"

Edward resisted the urge to shrug, instead simply saying, "I don't know." In all honesty, he hadn't planned on doing anything. But his father was relentless.

The king laughed humorlessly. "That _guard_ could use some discipline, as well as your wife. They need to know their places."

Edward didn't like the sound of that. But his father was not going to back down on this. This is how he always was, caring so much about appearances and perceptions. Edward quite frankly found it tiring.

"If you don't do something, I will."

Edward sighed. "Fine. But whatever you do, don't get rid of him. He's a good soldier." _And Sylvie would never forgive me if I let him be killed._

"He's one man, he can be replaced."

"I'm asking you not to kill him." Edward began to stand, signaling the end of the conversation.

His father looked at him strangely. "Just remember, it's your reputation we're talking about."

_Right. Because it's so great already._

**********

Brett woke up one morning after a few hours of sleep to a knock at his bedroom door. Groggily rubbing his face and letting his feet hit the floor, he threw on a shirt.

He opened his door just as a second knock was sounding to a fist frozen in midair. He recognized the familiar face of a fellow soldier that resided at the palace as a guard.

Frowning, he said, "What are you doing here?"

"You have to come with me. King's orders," the man said evenly, his face betraying no emotion.

It took a moment for Brett to process the soldier's words. "What? What have I done?" he asked, though he already knew what this was about. He had almost been expecting this.

Instead of answering, the man said, "Please just come willingly, Brett. I don't want to have to hurt you."

Brett sighed. "Fine," he said while finding his shoes and slipping them on. He considered grabbing a weapon but knew that would only make things worse for him.

He followed the soldier for several minutes, noticing as they descended below the castle that they must be headed for the prison. He stopped. The soldier, realizing after a few seconds that he was no longer being followed, turned around and walked towards him.

"Brett..."

"Why are you taking me to the prison?" He began to silently panic.

"I told you, I'm following the king's orders."

"By taking an innocent man to prison?"

"You're hardly innocent, Brett." The man's usually stoic expression now held a smirk. "Someone of our station bedding the prince's wife is a punishable offense. But I'm sure you knew that."

He knew. Of course he knew. But that hadn't changed his feelings for Sylvie or stopped him from making love to her. Even now, facing imprisonment, he regretted nothing.

"And I'm sure _you_ know that the prince is cruel to her," he said, his panic turning to anger.

The man crossed his arms. "It's not my place to pass judgment on that."

Seething, Brett felt his arm being forcefully pulled back in the direction of the prison. "How can you say that, you..."

But the man was not listening.

They descended one more set of steps that led to the dozens of cells below the castle. Marching Brett down the long corridor, the soldier finally stopped at one of the wooden doors and opened the cell with his key. 

Feeling the pressure around his arm released, he was lightly pushed into the cell and heard the door lock behind him. Knowing he could do or say nothing else, he sank to the floor, his back to the wall.


	14. Chapter 14

Sylvie was getting dressed that morning when she didn't hear the familiar punctual knock at her bedroom door. 

And after eating her breakfast, Brett _still_ wasn't there.

"Sophie, something's not right," she said to her friend. "I'm going to try to find him."

"Is that a good idea? Maybe he just slept in."

"He _never_ sleeps in," she said while halfway out the door.

She intended to check his bedroom, just in case Sophie was right. Upon reaching his door, she found it slightly ajar. He was gone, and he had apparently left without his weapon, something he never did. But nothing looked out of place.

Frowning, she walked through the halls, checking the few places she thought he could be, including the stables in case he had gone riding. But his horse was still there. 

Having no luck after about forty minutes into her search, she was growing increasingly worried. _Please let him be alright._

Checking his bedroom again to see if he had returned proved futile. Sylvie was at her wit's end. Taking a moment to breathe, she stood in front of a nearby window overlooking the bailey. 

She could see Edward sparring with another soldier, his sweat-soaked shirt clinging to his skin. Then she had a thought, one that made her uneasy.

Picking up her skirts, she hurried through the halls, down a flight of stairs and out into the bailey. She came to a stop behind him and to the side and began to impatiently wait for his sparring match to finish.

After several long minutes of intense dueling, Edward finally got the better of the other man. The two men each gave the other a good-natured slap on the back, after which Edward finally turned around and saw her watching him.

The smile disappeared from his face when he saw her serious expression, and he began walking towards her.

"What is wrong?" he said as he now stood in front of her. 

Sylvie grabbed his arm to pull him inside, away from prying eyes. "We need to talk. In private."

When they reached the inside of the castle, Edward looked down at his wrist where her small hand was still wrapped around it. "We can talk in the library, if you want," he mumbled. "There isn't usually anyone in there."

"Good," she said shortly, letting go of his wrist. She began hurriedly walking in the direction of the library, a place she had been many times to relax and read and easily knew how to find.

Reaching the library door after a few minutes, she pushed it open, relieved to see he had been correct about it being empty. Closing the door behind them, she moved away from it to make it more difficult for passersby to hear them.

Edward followed her to the side to stand in front of one of the numerous bookcases.

"Please answer me truthfully, Edward."

"What..."

"Where is Brett?"

He frowned, which only served to infuriate her. "If you have done something to him, I will never forgive you!"

"You really don't know where he is?"

"Don't play games with me, Edward! I wouldn't be talking to you if I hadn't looked in every place I could think of." She crossed her arms, severely impatient. 

He ran his hand through his hair. "I didn't think he would act so quickly," he muttered to himself.

"Who? What are you talking about?"

Edward sighed heavily. "My father."

A feeling of dread settled heavily in Sylvie's stomach. Grabbing his arms, she said, "Edward, what has happened? Please!"

"He found out about you and your, um, guard."

Her panic began to rise even further. _Who else knows?_

Edward continued speaking. "He was very angry and insisted on dealing out punishment. He probably had Brett arrested."

"Arrested?" she said in a small voice, his words sinking in. "So you knew about this?"

"Father only talked to me yesterday. I didn't think he would do something so soon."

She pointed a finger at him. "But you knew?"

"Sylvie, I wanted no part in it!"

Tears threatened to spill over onto her cheeks. "I..."

His voice was quieter now. "I asked my father not to have him killed."

She blinked, unsure what to think. "You... you what?"

"I didn't think he deserved to die for this."

"But he... we..."

"I know."

"You're not angry?" She sniffled, incredulous.

"I suppose I should be, but I'm not."

"I don't understand." She shook her head, trying to make sense of his words. "But can you at least take me to see him, if he has indeed been arrested?"

"I'm sorry, Sylvie, but you know I can't. Bribe a guard if you must, but it can't be me that takes you."

She sighed. "Alright."

"I suppose I should also tell you in case no one else has. My father has also forbidden you from riding outside the castle grounds."

Sylvie rolled her eyes. "Of course he has," she said as she turned on her heel and left the room without another word.

***********

Returning to her room, Sophie met her at the door. "Did you find him?"

Sylvie shook her head. "I think he's in the prison," she said, pacing.

"Oh," her friend said. She paused. "Because of...?"

A sigh. "Most likely." She went to grab her cloak. "I need to see him."

Sophie nodded, but then frowned. "Wait. I don't think that's a good idea. You'll almost certainly be recognized, and that will only draw more negative attention to you."

Sylvie huffed. "I don't care."

Her friend lightly took hold of her arm to stop her from walking out the door. "But you care about Brett. And you going to see him could make this more difficult for him."

She hesitated. Sophie was right. _What if it puts him in danger? I would never be able to live with myself._

She hung her head, silent tears beginning to fall. Her friend hugged her lightly, but she couldn't bring herself to return the embrace.

"I don't know if everything will be alright," Sophie said, "but I will always be here for you."


	15. Chapter 15

Brett kept track of how long he had been in his cell by the number of meal trays that were brought to him, as the prison was below ground and had no windows. A guard would open the door, set the tray of stale bread and water on the floor, and quickly close it, locking it behind him.

_Five days._

He was starving. And he missed Sylvie. At times he almost wondered why she hadn't visited, but he knew that would be unwise in this situation.

He knew he must look a sight, with his unshaven face and unkempt hair.

He stretched, his back aching from sleeping on the hard ground and sitting propped against the wall. Having no real way to pass the time, he would often pace the small area or even do push-ups.

He almost wished he had a book, though he didn't really enjoy reading.

Brett sat down, his back against the cold stone, thinking. He loved Sylvie, more than anything. _But I don't see how this can bring anything but more heartache and suffering for us. What future can we possibly have?_

Her reputation was suffering now that everyone knew, and his was doing no better. 

The sound of his cell door opening startled him back to the present. 

_They've already brought me bread today. I wonder what's happening..._

A feeling of dread settled in his stomach as he stood up.

"Come on, Yang. Get out. You're being released," the guard said.

Brett could hardly believe it. He smiled wide, knowing the man most likely couldn't see his face. "Thank you," he said as he exited his cell.

The man huffed. "If you're going to thank anyone, it should be the prince." 

Brett momentarily stopped in his tracks. _What? Edward? Why would he..._

He resumed hurrying up the stairs to the main castle floor and up another flight to the next floor, where his bedroom was. 

It looked to be mid-afternoon, and Brett knew Edward often sparred with other soldiers around this time. Though he was hungry, he wanted to speak to the prince if at all possible.

Upon reaching his bedroom he quickly shaved his face and changed his clothing. He hurried out to the bailey and saw Edward standing among other soldiers, watching two men duel. 

Brett felt awkward approaching him. Everyone's eyes were on him as he walked out in the open towards the prince, who quickly spotted him as well and didn't seem surprised in the slightest to see him.

Edward excused himself and started in Brett's direction. He motioned for Brett to follow him into the castle. He passed by the kitchens and ordered the staff to have a meal brought to his room. 

Heading up two flights of stairs, he continued following Edward to what appeared to be his bedroom. It was very spacious, with colorful tapestries hanging the walls, a large bed, beautifully carved wooden furniture, and several places to sit, including a very comfortable-looking couch.

Brett stood awkwardly in front of the door after Edward closed it, unsure what to do or think at this point. He hadn't expected this.

"Have a seat." He looked up at the sound of the prince's voice. "The food should be here soon."

He hesitantly sat down on the couch, his hands shaking nervously. 

Edward sat across from him in another luxurious chair. He still appeared to be sweating from exerting himself under the hot sun, but it didn't seem to bother him.

They sat in silence for several minutes until a knock sounded at the door. The prince yelled for them to enter. Two servants carrying large trays of food walked over to the short table in front of the couch and set them down, bowing as they took their leave.

"Please, eat," said Edward. "I know you're hungry."

Brett raised his eyebrows. "This is all for me?"

Edward nodded. "I have no appetite."

Brett didn't need another invitation. All of the best meat, cheese, and fruits were spread out in front of him, and he savored all of it.

Edward curiously watched him eat. 

Once he was finished, the prince pushed the table to the side.

Brett finally thought to speak, having many questions. "Why are you doing this? Why did you have me released?"

Edward leaned back. "I don't know the answer to your first question. To answer the second - simply, you didn't deserve to be in there."

Brett blinked, now very lost. "Then why put me in there?"

"It was my father."

_Ah, yes. 'King's orders.'_

"Oh."

"I went against him to have you let out. He won't be happy, but at least you got some of the punishment he wanted you to have."

"Punishment? For..."

"Yes, for having an affair with my wife, his daughter-in-law. That would be correct." Edward sighed.

Brett began to feel nervous again, not meeting his eyes. "I... I'm sorry..."

"I didn't bring you here to ask for an apology. I don't need one," the prince said. "What I seek is an understanding."

Brett frowned. "What do you mean?"

Edward leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "What I mean is, if you can keep your, um, _relationship_ quiet, I won't bother you. And I can make sure my father doesn't, either."

The shorter man squinted, not trusting the prince's words. He cleared his throat. "With all due respect, your majesty, I don't believe you. You've done nothing but cause misery for Syl- your wife. How can I know you're not planning on using me to hurt her?"

The prince sighed heavily before speaking in a low voice. "If I wanted to hurt her, I could've had her publicly shamed when I heard her say your name in the throes of ecstasy."

Brett's jaw worked, the color draining from his face. "I..."

"But that didn't happen, did it?"

_This can't be happening._

Brett wasn't sure whether to be mortified or afraid. He covered his face with his hands. "What is it that you want from me?"

"I've already said, I don't want anything from you. I'm simply advising you to be more, well, discreet."

Brett's head was spinning. "But why? You're her husband..."

"Yes, but as strange as it sounds, I don't, _can't_ make her happy. You can. I think she deserves that much after what she's been through."

"You mean after what _you_ have put her through." 

Edward's jaw tensed. "Yes." He paused. "My father desires for us to appear as a happy couple, but that will never happen if it's just me in the picture. Again, I know it sounds strange."

He cleared his throat, saying, "I have my lovers, she has hers. What difference should it make to me?"


	16. Chapter 16

When Sylvie returned to her room with Sophie after visiting the library, she found a familiar face waiting for her.

"Brett?"

He looked exhausted, but he also appeared clean-shaven, which was strange considering the circumstances.

He stood, waiting for her to walk towards him. 

"Oh Brett, I'm so relieved to see that you're alright!" She wrapped her arms around him in a hug, but he did not return it. Sensing his apprehension, she pulled back and looked him in the eye. "What is wrong?"

"Sylvie, we..." He hung his head as tears threatened to spill over.

His next words nearly knocked the breath out of her. "We can't keep doing this."

Her heart sank. "Brett, please, whatever doubts you're having, we can work through..."

"It's not about that, Sylvie. Don't you see?" Tears were freely falling down his face now, causing her heart to break. "The king had me imprisoned for five days. God only knows how long I would have been in there if the prince hadn't decided to let me go."

She frowned, confused now. " _Edward_ released you? Is that what you're saying?"

He nodded. "He brought me back to his room and told me some nonsense about how he doesn't actually care about our affair as long as we keep it quiet, but I don't believe any of it."

She had so many questions, but one thing managed to stick out in her mind above all else. "Our _affair_?" 

He flinched. "That's not what I..."

"Is that what you think this is? Brett, I love you!"

"And I love you. But it's not safe, not for either of us. Regardless of what he says, he could still hurt you. He could have me killed at any moment. We can't risk it."

She shook her head, grabbing his hands. "None of that matters, Brett. I don't care if he hurts me. I would put my life on the line if it meant being with you."

He shook his hands free from her grip. "I won't let you."

Stifling a sob, she asked in a small voice, "Why?"

"Because I love you and I need you to be safe."

"But I won't be happy," she pleaded.

He sighed heavily, running his hands over his face. "Then so be it."

With that, he quickly exited the room without another word.

Sophie rushed over to catch her in time before she fell to the floor. 

***********

Days passed, and it appeared that Brett had requested another assignment, as he no longer stood guard outside her door. 

Instead, it was another soldier that Sylvie did not recognize, and who appeared to dislike her as he did his best to ignore her except when it was necessary to speak to her, which wasn't often.

She missed him. Sophie was a dear friend, but the type of companionship she had had with Brett was irreplaceable. They weren't simply lovers; she felt they had connected on a much deeper level. She would have been willing to risk everything to continue their relationship, but, as much as it hurt, she began to understand why Brett was not.

She thought that maybe he was avoiding her, as she hadn't seen him anywhere in the castle for days. But one morning, she awoke to find a small, torn piece of paper that had been slipped under her door. Unfolding it, she saw the scratchy handwriting that could only be Brett's. 

_I'm writing this for you because you deserve to know. I have rejoined the army. I will be sent to the camp located on the outskirts of Grelia, and after that, who knows where or for how long. Please try not to worry for me. Perhaps it would be best if you forgot me._

_Goodbye._

Her tears were staining the paper and blurring her vision. The pain in her heart was unbearable. _You're leaving? Just like that?_

She ran over to her window that overlooked the front of the castle, but didn't see anyone. Quickly dressing, she hurried to another window outside her room that overlooked the bailey to see if soldiers were gathered there. Nothing.

_Edward would know._

It was early yet, so perhaps she could catch him before he left his room. She quickly walked in that direction.

Knocking on his door, she impatiently announced herself. "Your majesty, it is your wife."

It didn't take long this time for his door to open, revealing her husband already dressed for the day. She marched past him into the room as he closed the door.

"What can I do for you?" he asked, nonchalant.

She rolled her eyes. "You can tell me whether it was you or your father that is sending him away to fight!"

He frowned. "What are you talking about? He requested to fight."

Her heart sank as she realized what Brett had done. "He... he what? Why?"

"He didn't say. Just wanted to be sent out as soon as possible."

As tears began to fall down her face, Edward stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to do.

Brett had made sure they wouldn't see each other. He was almost trying to force her to forget him.

She sniffled. "Where is he? When does he leave?"

"Sylvie, he left late last night."

"What? But I didn't hear any soldiers gathering..."

"He went alone."

_Oh, Brett. How could you leave me like this?_

She shook her head, unable to form words. She hated being like this in front of Edward, where he could see her weakness. But she supposed he already knew.

Sylvie held her head down as she walked back to her room, refusing to let anyone else see her tears.


	17. Chapter 17

Months passed, and summer gave way to autumn, which gave way to winter yet again.

Edward and Sylvie's son was nearly a year old now, and looked more like his father every day. Sylvie devoted much of her day to spending time with him and getting to know him. Edward also visited him from time to time, which surprised Sylvie, as he had initially been disinterested in having anything to do with raising the child. _Maybe he has changed._

She missed Brett more than she let on. It had been rough being cut off from him so suddenly, and the pain of loss had been nearly unbearable. But she had done her best to distract herself, especially with her son who she loved so much. 

As hard as she tried, it made it more difficult to hear rumors of the queen speaking of Sylvie not being a dutiful wife to her son, the prince. She had been trying to get along with him, but there was still so much hurt from the past that she just couldn't get over. The queen almost seemed to look down on her for not being able to have anymore children, though it didn't seem to bother Edward.

One afternoon, Sylvie was sitting in her son's room with him on her lap, reading him a story. She especially enjoyed this time of day, when he would eventually fall asleep in her arms.

Without warning, the door burst open, startling the child and causing him to whimper.

The servant who had just hurriedly entered half-curtseyed, out of breath. "Your grace."

Sylvie stood up, handing her son to his nanny. "Yes, what is it?"

"It is the king, your grace. He has collapsed."

Her heart in her throat, Sylvie asked, "What happened? Where is he?"

"We don't know, your grace. He has been taken to his room. The physician will be attending him."

Sylvie rushed past the woman on her way to the king's room where she knew family would be gathered. It took her a moment to remember which way to go as she rarely walked the halls near his room.

Upon seeing an open door, she knew that it must be his room. Gingerly stepping inside, she saw several people gathered around a large bed, where the king lay, motionless. A man who appeared to be a physician stood up from examining him and walked over to the queen and Edward, quietly saying a few words that caused the queen to start sobbing, while the prince remained emotionless.

_Oh no._

Finally Edward noticed her, still not betraying any emotion as she caught his eye. He helped his mother into a nearby chair and walked over to where Sylvie stood, still near the doorway.

"He's gone, Sylvie."

"Edward, I'm so sorry. I..." She didn't know what else to say. Her and the king had not been on the best of terms, though she knew it was a heavy loss for her husband.

He nodded. "There's a lot to plan for the, uh, funeral and the coronation."

_Coronation._ Edward was king now. And she would be crowned queen beside him.

************

The funeral took place a few days later, with the king being interred in a predetermined spot in the large chapel. 

His family, including Sylvie, wore black to symbolize their mourning. Edward's sister, Belle, was not able to come due to the very long distance she would have had to travel. Sylvie felt for her. 

Their coronation took place the following day. They were both dressed in the royal colors, navy blue and gold: Edward in his formal military uniform, and Sylvie in a long, fitted dress that trailed several feet behind her. 

They knelt together in front of the chapel altar as the crowns were placed on their heads. Sylvie thought her crown was much heavier than it looked, as it was made of solid gold and encrusted with several sapphires.

As the couple turned around to receive cheers from those in attendance, Sylvie could have sworn she noticed Edward's mother give her an unfriendly look before turning away, but she didn't think much of it. _I have just taken her place, after all._

Edward and Sylvie sat side by side at the head table at the banquet, thankfully, Sylvie thought, no longer having to wear the heavy crowns. They were taken back to their secure locations after the ceremony.

The former queen sat to Edward's right and frequently conversed with him, sometimes even whispered in his ear, while for the most part ignoring her daughter-in-law. Sylvie didn't much want to talk with her anyway, as the two had never really gotten along well.

Nearing midnight, the celebrations were coming to a close. The newly crowned couple left the hall first, arm in arm. They made their way up the circular staircase that led to the next floor, where their rooms were. Before they parted ways, she suddenly felt Edward's breath on her ear. "Come to my room once you have dressed for the evening."

Entering her room, she waited a few minutes for Sophie to enter and help her remove her dress. As she finally slipped out of it, she sighed in relief before she remembered where she had to go.

"Edward has asked for my company," she said to her friend. "I suppose I should wear one of my better nightdresses."

Sophie, eyebrows raised, walked to one of the large dressers and pulled open a drawer, lifting up a sleek white satin nightgown. "Like this?"

Sylvie nodded and sighed again. "Yes, that'll do."

Slipping it on, she fetched a robe to cover herself. She felt nervous. She and Edward hadn't really been alone for ages. He hadn't been aggressive towards her the handful of times she had encountered him around the castle in the past few months, but that didn't mean he couldn't try something now.

"Well, goodnight," she said to Sophie as she stepped out of her room. Walking to the end of the hall to her husband's room, she knocked twice, not bothering to announce herself this late at night.


	18. Chapter 18

Edward opened the door, in his nightclothes as well. 

He smiled sadly. "I'm glad you came. I was afraid you wouldn't."

"Well, I couldn't exactly refuse, could I?" Her words came out bolder than she felt.

He sighed, gesturing to a couch in front of the fireplace. "Why don't we sit? I would like to talk."

He followed her to the couch and sat down next to her, though not very close. Sighing again, he said hesitantly, "Though my mother has made it clear to me that she isn't fond of you, she wants us to, um, _rekindle_ our relationship since we are to rule together. She says it would look better if we actually acted like a married couple."

Sylvie nodded, unsurprised. "I wasn't aware that we ever had a relationship." _If he thinks this means I'll go to bed with him, he's got another thing coming._

"And that's my fault. I was stupid and unnecessarily cruel. I know you didn't believe me when I apologized before, but I really am sorry. I do mean it, and I don't know how to prove it to you." He ran his hand through his dark hair.

Sylvie hesitated. She didn't sense any deception in his voice, but that didn't necessarily mean much. "Why? Why did you have to hurt me and humiliate me when I had done nothing to you?" On the verge of tears now, her voice faltered on her last words.

He closed his eyes. "I don't know. I suppose I hated the idea of having to marry, and I wanted to hate you, too. It doesn't make sense to me now, either, but I must have projected my anger onto you even though you didn't deserve it." His head was in his hands, his elbows resting on his knees. "God, I'm so sorry."

Sylvie was at a loss. She didn't want to believe him, but the man beside her appeared broken and contrite. If he was telling the truth, what did she have to lose? Her head was spinning.

She sighed. "Edward, I don't know if I believe you, but either way I cannot forgive you. At least not yet."

"I understand. Even if you never forgive me, I will understand."

Nodding, she said, "I suppose the best I can do is ask for you and I to start over." She almost couldn't believe the words coming out of her mouth. 

He looked at her, eyes bright with unshed tears. "I'm willing to do that. Even though I know you will never love me, not like you loved him."

Sylvie stiffened at the mention of Brett. She had been trying not to think about him; it helped the pain to avoid the source. _I still love him._

Edward must have noticed her change in demeanor, as he turned to face her and gently took one of her hands in his. Though his touch was soft, she couldn't help but flinch slightly. "I'm sorry for your heartache, but I think we both knew how it would end."

A tear escaping down her cheek, she nodded. "I know." _That doesn't make it any easier._

"I'm sorry, it probably doesn't help for me to say that," he said, looking down at their clasped hands.

"You were trying to comfort me. It's alright." _This is all so strange. Edward really appears not to be angry with me._

Closing part of the distance between them, he asked, "Can I hold you?"

She looked up at him, meeting his eyes. Searching them for the smallest bit of guile and finding none, she softly said, "Yes."

Enveloping his arms around her, she lay her head on his shoulder, dampening his shirt with silent tears. His slender figure belied a strong chest and arms, and she felt a small bit of that strength as he held her close. _I never thought this would be happening between us._

They sat this way in silence for several minutes, the only sound being that of the occasional sniffle.

She eventually pulled away, surprised to see his face wet with tears. "Life is short, Sylvie," he said, "and I'm sorry ours started out the way it did. But if you'll still have me, I'd like to start over, like you said."

She nodded. "Alright."

He smiled, and began to close the distance between their faces. She didn't stop him. Instead, she closed her eyes and let him kiss her.

It was tentative, shy almost. His lips were feather-light against hers, moving slowly and carefully. She hesitantly responded, and his kisses became more insistent. His mouth persuaded hers to open up to him so he could taste her. She could feel his want growing, and was surprised to feel the familiar warmth spreading throughout her body as well.

Sylvie pulled away before it went any further, putting a hand on Edward's chest, noticing his flushed face. "I'm not ready for..."

He took her hand, enclosing it in his. "I know. I'm sorry. I got carried away."

She watched as his thumb rubbed circles on the back of her hand.

"Would you at least stay here with me tonight? I'm not asking for anything else."

Surprising herself yet again, she said, "I would."

**********

Edward hadn't expected her to stay, but was pleasantly surprised when she did.

She agreed to let him hold her while they lay in his bed, his arms wrapped around her, her face to his chest. He never thought she would let him get this close to her again. Although part of him wished she was under him instead, her close beside him was a nice substitute. He wasn't about to push any boundaries tonight when they had made it this far.

She fell asleep first. He lay there listening to her soft breathing until he, too, welcomed sleep's embrace.


	19. Chapter 19

It took several days for messengers to reach the Grelian army camp, by now stationed in a neighboring kingdom.

Brett heard the news that the king had died, and that his son and his wife had been crowned. For him, it was bittersweet to hear that Sylvie appeared to be doing well. With her as queen, he knew their relationship would have been even more dangerous to pursue. Leaving was for the best. 

He had taken up journaling to pass the boring days in the camp, his scratchy handwriting filling scores of pages, sometimes multiple pages for one day.

But today, he didn't write but two words.

_Godspeed, Sylvie._

************

Sophie gave Sylvie a knowing look. "You two seem to be getting close," she said as she helped her friend into her nightgown. 

Sylvie shook her head. "I promise, it's not what you think."

Every few nights, Edward would ask for her company, and she would oblige him. It had been several weeks, and he had yet to try anything with her. She was also pleasantly surprised to find that she enjoyed their conversations, as he seemed to be quite intelligent and well-spoken.

He definitely did not appear to be the same man she had married, and she was thankful for whatever had caused him to reevaluate his behavior.

She knew he missed his father, and she had tried to help him through his grief as best as she could. She knew what it was like to lose a parent.

Saying goodnight to Sophie, she left her room and walked the short distance to Edward's. She raised her fist to knock, but he opened the door before she got the chance. He must have heard her coming.

Sylvie wasn't prepared to see him in a shirt that revealed much of his chest. 

"Are you coming in?" 

She was startled back to reality, heat creeping into her face. She walked in, now self-conscious.

Sitting at their usual spot in front of the fireplace, they talked of mundane things and of their daily responsibilities as new rulers. There was a lot that the both of them had yet to learn, and together they considered ways to handle certain situations.

Later on, they eventually began discussing their recently-read books as they often did. Edward enthusiastically gestured as he talked about a book on religion that had interested him, detailing why he agreed or disagreed with the author on several points. Sylvie smiled, not really understanding much of what he was talking about, but listening nonetheless.

Sylvie had recently finished reading a volume detailing legends and folklore of Capia, where she was born and raised. 

"I'm so glad I finally got around to reading it. It was one of my mother's favorite books, I think. It's hard for me to remember after so long."

Edward paused. "What happened to your mother, Sylvie?" he asked gently.

Sylvie smiled sadly. "She passed away from a fever when I was young, maybe around seven or eight years old."

He took one of her hands in his. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."

"That's alright, it's been such a long time. It's getting harder and harder to remember her face. My father has always said how I'm beautiful just like her, though I'm not sure that's completely true," she said, pondering.

"I hope you know that you're beautiful in your own right, Sylvie, and not just because you may resemble your mother," Edward said, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. 

She looked down, feeling her cheeks turn warm. "I appreciate the sentiment, Edward, but..."

He moved closer to her. "You don't have to turn down every compliment I give you, Sylvie. Modesty is becoming, but so is self-confidence." He smiled, reassuring her.

She nodded, still unsure.

"If only you knew what you did to me," he said, his voice lower now as he traced her jawline with his fingertip.

Her heart pounding, Sylvie averted her eyes, willing herself to avoid his gaze. But he used his finger to tilt her head so their eyes could meet.

"Edward..."

"Tell me you don't want this," he whispered as his lips met hers in a yearning, possessive kiss. 

Sylvie couldn't think straight. All she knew was that her body was responding to his touch.

Parting their lips, he placed a kiss on the curve where her neck met her shoulder, causing her to involuntarily shiver. She hadn't felt this good since...

"Sylvie, tell me if you want me to stop," he said, his breaths coming faster, as she felt his thumbs kneading into her hips. 

She swallowed, making up her mind. "Don't stop."

He kissed her again before taking her hand and rising to his feet, leading her to his bed.

Sylvie's heart raced as he watched her pull her nightgown over her head before quickly removing his own clothing.

Gently guiding her to lay on her back, he captured her mouth with his, kissing her like a man starved. Parting their lips, he trailed down her neck to her shoulder, and she felt his tongue on her collarbone, causing her to gasp quietly.

Meeting her eyes again, he took her hand and placed it on his chest. "You can touch me."

He closed his eyes as she traced a nimble finger down his chest to his stomach where she gingerly touched a long scar. At his intake of breath, she judged it to be sensitive. As she finished trailing back up to his face, he took her other hand, intertwining their fingers. 

Searching his eyes, she found her own want mirrored there.

"Sylvie..." She could see the racing pulse in his neck.

She nodded. "Please."

He sighed as he entered her, his hips soon reaching a steady rhythm. She dug her fingernails into the back of his hand, her other arm around his neck.

He proved himself to be a gentle lover, a far cry from her experience on their wedding night. Where his grip had been bruising, tonight it was gentle; where he had been fast and rough with her, tonight he took his time.

Closing her eyes, she could almost imagine it was someone else making love to her before she stopped herself. _He's not here, he's gone, he's..._

A soft moan involuntarily escaped her throat as he slightly picked up his pace. Her eyes fluttered open to see him watching her. 

"You're so beautiful, Sylvie," he said softly, closing his eyes. "Ah, you're... so...."

She pulled his head down so his lips could meet hers. Pulling away, he placed his mouth next to her ear, whispering things that would in other circumstances have made her face turn red with embarrassment.

Riding out their high together, he managed to hold himself up so as not to collapse onto her. He rolled onto his side, pulling her into his arms.

"Please don't leave," he whispered.

"I won't."


	20. Chapter 20

_One year later_

Despite his dislike of alcohol and people that drank heavily of it, Brett allowed himself to be pulled to a nearby tavern by his friends.

During this stint in Grelia's military, which wasn't his first, he had performed well enough to be given command of a sizable group of soldiers. Against his wishes, he was being sent home temporarily, along with many other high-performing officers. He would leave tomorrow.

The only home he had had for over a decade was the palace where the royal family lived. Not thinking so far ahead when he left as to find another place to live, he supposed he had no choice but to spend his allotted time there, despite his misgivings.

His army friends had wanted to send him off properly, even though he would only be gone a few weeks. So here he was, sipping on some unpleasant-tasting ale in what was practically a brothel. Well, not practically. It _was._

As the night went on, Brett tried to enjoy the company of his friends, laughing at dirty jokes and even telling some of his own. But he made sure not to drink too much. He had no desire to be hungover when he began his travels tomorrow.

By now, most of his friends were drunk, and several had young women in their laps. One couple was kissing quite heavily, and another was now heading upstairs, coins having been exchanged for favors to be given in the very near future.

Brett had turned away the couple of women who had offered their services to him that evening, not having any interest in prostitutes. But as he was about to stand and take his leave, one particularly bold young woman walked over and plopped herself in his lap. She was very beautiful, and looked to be quite a bit younger than him.

Brett raised his eyebrows, taken off guard. "Um..."

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she said, "You seem shy. What's your name?"

He was trying hard to avoid her eyes, her gaze almost unnerving him. "I'm sorry, but I don't think..."

His friend sitting a chair over chimed in. "Don't worry, mate. This one's on me," he said with a drunken smile, fishing a few coins from his pocket and dropping them in the woman's hand. "Have some fun tonight."

Brett blinked. "Wait, I..."

"Let's go, huh?" said the woman cheerily, hopping off of his lap and taking his hand. 

He felt his friend slap his back as he reluctantly followed the woman to the stairs. She led him to a very small room, bare but for a bed and a dresser. 

Closing the door behind them, she walked up to Brett, who was by now feeling very awkward, and kissed him, her hands on either side of his face. She tasted of ale and something else he couldn't place. He wondered how many other men she had kissed that night.

Pulling away, she moved her hands to his shoulders. She frowned. "You're very tense. Sit down. I'll help you relax."

She led him to sit on the edge of the small bed as she got up to sit behind him. She helped him remove his shirt as her expert fingers began kneading the stiff muscles in his shoulders and back. He closed his eyes, beginning to relax slightly.

"Do you have a girl at home?"

His eyes flew open upon hearing her voice, but he hadn't been paying attention. "What?"

"You must have someone waiting for you at home, a handsome guy like yourself." She giggled.

Shaking his head, he felt his face heat up. "No, I'm not married."

"A lover, perhaps?"

An innocent question, but one that revived too many memories. "No," he said, harsher than he intended. In a softer tone, he added, "Not anymore."

"I'm sorry. What happened, if you don't mind me asking?" Brett almost minded, but decided that opening up might help him.

"She was of a higher station. It wouldn't have worked."

"Did you love her?" 

"I did." _I do._

"Well, maybe it was for the best. Things happen for a reason, don't they?" 

He nodded sadly. "I suppose." 

By now, Brett had almost forgotten where he was. Her hands had worked wonders on his tired muscles, and he was feeling quite relaxed.

Lifting her hands from his back, she maneuvered around him on the bed, stepping onto the floor. He was brought back to reality as he watched her kneel in front of him. 

As she placed one hand on his thigh and the other on his belt, memories of _her_ resurfaced. He irrationally felt disloyal, though he hadn't seen her for quite a long time. "I-I'm sorry," he said, moving her hands away. "I can't do this."

"What's wrong?" Her face showed the smallest bit of hurt, and he almost felt bad.

"Nothing. I... I would just rather not, that's all."

She nodded, rising to her feet. "Well, you're welcome to stay here with me. The whole night is paid for, anyway."

He gave her a small smile. "Thank you. I'm quite tired, so I think I might take you up on the offer. If you don't mind."

Her face lit up. "Of course not!"

They lay side by side in the small bed, talking into the night before she fell asleep. 

Brett lay awake for a few hours, thinking about what he would do when he saw Sylvie again, which he knew he inevitably would if he were to stay at the palace. He fell asleep before reaching a decision.


	21. Chapter 21

Sylvie woke up next to her husband. By now, she mostly slept in Edward's bed with him. 

The past year had seen the couple's relationship improve significantly to the point where they were spending much of their free time with each other, even riding together, an activity Sylvie had missed.

She admired his charisma and leadership when it came to his people, and his kindness and empathy when it came to her.

In about a week's time, they would be holding a large celebration for his birthday, and she was very excited. He initially hadn't wanted to make a big deal of it, but had relented with a smile when she had cheerily insisted.

She made to get out of bed to start the day when she felt strong arms wrap around her, pulling her back.

"Edward..."

"Just a little longer?"

She sighed, smiling. "Just a few more minutes."

He snuggled up to her, and they lay that way for a while. 

**********

After getting dressed, she decided she would stop by the kitchens to see how things were coming along for the celebration in a few days.

As she passed by a window that overlooked the inner bailey, she caught a glimpse of someone walking from the stables, which was unusual this early in the morning. From what she could see, he appeared to be a soldier. 

Moving closer to the window so she could get a better look, the color drained from her face when she realized who it was. _Brett? But I thought he was..._

Her mind raced. _Why is he back? Is he injured? Was he dismissed?_

But it was best she didn't know. Sylvie made a promise to herself right then that she would not acknowledge him or speak to him. She couldn't risk it, not when her and Edward were on good terms. After all, Brett had broken her heart by leaving. She hadn't forgiven him for that.

**********

Returning from talking with the cooks and servants in the kitchens, Sylvie was on her way back to her room to prepare to go riding with Edward. They hadn't been out in a few days, and she was looking forward to it.

Turning a corner before reaching the stairs, she nearly ran into someone who was walking just as fast. "Oh goodness, I'm so..."

Looking up, she saw that it was none other than Brett staring back at her. Her heart suddenly pounding, she took her skirts in her hands and marched to the stairs and up to her room. 

Her back against the door, she closed her eyes. _This isn't going to be easy._

**********

He hadn't even been sure where he was headed. He just wanted to walk. 

And then suddenly, her. Seeing her caused butterflies to appear in his stomach, just like before. The base attraction was still present, and he could see it in her eyes, too.

He had expected to see her, but not so soon. And she had hurried off before he could think of something to say. 

_Why didn't she even say hello? Is she still angry with me for leaving?_

********* 

As the days passed, Sylvie busied herself with making sure everything was perfect for the festivities soon to come. She had herself selected all the food and desserts to be served, picking Edward's favorites. She had already picked out the dress she would wear, a navy blue affair that flared out from her waist. 

She continued to avoid Brett, not speaking to him when she passed him in the halls, though it nearly broke her resolve to see the hurt look on his face.

She admitted to herself that yes, he was as good-looking as ever, if a little bit thinner. But that only served to heighten the challenge to resist the temptation.

Edward was aware of Brett's presence, but didn't seem bothered. "It's in the past, right?" he had said. She had looked down, almost feeling guilty for taking a second to answer. "Yes, of course." He had kissed her then, nearly causing her to forget about the object of her worries.

Lying awake in bed one night, Edward asleep beside her, Sylvie could not sleep. Her resolve was wearing thin. She thought of Brett, his gentle soul, and how her behavior must be hurting him. _But he hurt you._

She touched her face, remembering what it had felt like when he had done the same. _Stop it. You're happily married. You have a child. You can't want this anymore._

Immediately feeling guilty, she snuggled up to her husband, willing sleep to come so her mind would leave her alone.

**********

Brett lay in bed one evening, sleep eluding him. 

_I messed up in leaving her like that. Now she wants nothing to do with me._

Though it pained him, he had to admit to himself that maybe what she was doing was for the best. She was saving both of them from more heartache, though he desperately wanted to speak to her, to at least apologize before letting her go. She deserved that much.

Letting his mind drift, he recalled happier times with her. Her long, dark hair flying with the wind as they galloped through the countryside, their deep conversations about anything and everything, her perfect laugh when she was happy, her beautiful voice when she was enthusiastic about something that interested her. The first time they held hands, the first time they kissed, the first time they made love, the first time she called out his name in pleasure.

But it was Edward she laughed with now. It was Edward who made her happy, who listened when she rambled on. It was Edward's hand she held. And it was Edward's name she cried out in the throes of passion. 

He groaned. It was evident that he still desired her, though there was nothing he could do about it. She still had his heart, and at this rate, he didn't think he would ever recover it. 

_Why must you plague my mind, Sylvie?_


	22. Chapter 22

Sylvie was tired. It was the evening before Edward's birthday, and she had been overseeing some of the finishing touches on desserts and decorations. She had been awake since early that morning, and she was ready for sleep to take her.

It was mostly dark now, and candles mounted on the walls illuminated her way. But she hadn't gotten far before she heard footsteps following her. _Who on earth...?_

Turning around, she saw Brett striding towards her. As he got closer, she started to turn away, but felt a firm grip on her wrist. 

"We need to talk, Sylvie."

Her eyes wide in confusion, she whispered back, "What do you think you're doing? We can't..."

Ignoring her, he pulled her back down the hall to a rarely-used storage room, closing the door behind them. Sylvie could hardly see a thing.

"Brett, what is this?" she demanded. "What's the matter with you?"

He chuckled. "You're talking to me now, huh?"

She was fuming. "We're done here," she said, turning to leave. Once again, a hand on her arm stopped her.

"Please, Sylvie, hear me out," he said, his voice tinged with desperation. "I want to apologize."

Turning to the sound of his voice, as it was nearly impossible to see now, she was intrigued at his words. Crossing her arms, she waited for him to continue.

He paused. "I shouldn't have left like I did. I know it hurt you. But please know I did it out of love for you. It was the only way I knew to keep you safe. I'm sorry."

A silent tear fell down her cheek, and she quickly wiped it away. She couldn't help but be overcome by emotion remembering his sudden departure. She found to her surprise that it still hurt. She had pushed the pain down, ignoring it, letting it fester.

In a small voice, she said, "Brett, I was heartbroken. I felt like you had abandoned me."

He sighed heavily. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know what else to do."

"You could have stayed with me..."

"And risk my and your safety? Sylvie, if something had happened to you because of me, I would have never forgiven myself, believe me."

"You made me so happy..."

"But now Edward makes you happy, right?" She could hear the bitterness in his voice.

She frowned. "Brett..."

"After everything he did to you, and you let him into your heart, just like that?"

"He's changed. I wouldn't have..."

"I'm sure you believe that." There was a certain edge to his voice, one that she hadn't heard before. It almost excited her.

She narrowed her eyes. "And how would you know any different?"

A pause. "I know what I saw, Sylvie."

"You've been gone for over a year. People can change."

Sensing him move closer to her, she took a step back. 

"Do you love him, Sylvie?"

Her heart pounded. _Do I?_ She cared for him, certainly. But was it love?

"I..."

"It's a simple enough question."

She had never seen this aggressive side of him. The Brett she had known was gentle, soft-spoken.

"I... I don't know."

"I see." He stepped closer to her again, backing her against the wall. "How about a different question, huh?"

She swallowed, nervous.

"Do you love me?"

Her head turned sharply towards him, though she could barely see him. "Brett, I can't..."

"You what? You _can't_ love me? Or you don't?" 

Her hands shaking, she realized that he was getting the best of her. _How can I get out of this? I certainly can't tell him what he wants to hear._

In a trembling voice, she said, "No, Brett. I don't love you. Not anymore." _Now will you please let me go?_

She felt a spark as he reached out and touched her face. "Then why are you practically begging for me to do this?"

His mouth captured hers in a rough kiss, angry and possessive. Feeling the warmth travel through her body at his touch, she pressed her hands to his chest, pushing him away.

"Stop. Please. I can't do this."

"You can't? Or you don't want to?" She could almost see him smirk.

"Brett, please..."

He kissed her again, softly this time. Squeezing her eyes shut, tears escaping, she soon felt his lips on her neck as he lightly took her waist in his hands. Whispering in her ear, he asked again, "Do you love me, Sylvie?"

The truth could only lead to heartbreak. But she couldn't deny it any longer, not when she wanted him this badly.

Swallowing heavily, she whispered back, "Yes."

Their lips collided again, her hands on his face, pulling him closer as his fingers dug into her hips. 

As he pulled away, she felt his mouth on her neck again, causing her to lean her head back against the wall.

"You like that, don't you?" he whispered.

Instead of answering, she placed her hands under his shirt and onto his warm chest, sighing. _This is what home feels like. In his arms._

Moving her hands downward, she tugged at his belt, helping him unbuckle it. 

As she hiked up the skirt of her dress, he placed his hands on her now-bare waist, his touch sending heat through her body. She was lightly shaking in anticipation.

Making sure he had a tight grip, she jumped slightly so that she could wrap her legs around his waist, her hands clinging to his neck. The only sounds to be heard were their breathing and the rustling of clothes.

_Just this once._

Adjusting himself, he entered her with little warning, causing her to bite her lip to stifle a moan. 

"God, I missed this," he whispered against her lips. _I did, too._

He rested his forehead against hers as he continued his rhythmic movements, her one hand grabbing at his hair.

"Ah, Brett..." she whispered.

"I love you, Sylvie," he whispered back. "I love you. I never stopped."

Slowing down after a few minutes, he kissed her again, muffling the sinful sounds they made.

"Sylvie, god, I can't... ah..."

She pressed her mouth to his as he thrust into her a final time. Releasing his grip on her and letting her feet hit the floor, she fell to her knees, her legs shaking. He joined her on the floor, finding her hand and intertwining their fingers. 

Breathless, he whispered, "I love you, Sylvie. I always will, until the day I die. I promise you."


	23. Chapter 23

Lying in bed that night, Brett was trying to process what had just transpired. 

_She still loves me._

Sylvie had tried to turn him away, but he had held his ground. Though she had seemed somewhat responsive to his apology, he had been overcome by jealousy when he recalled how close her and Edward had appeared earlier that day.

It didn't make any sense to him how she could so easily forgive her husband, not when he had witnessed the man's violent nature firsthand. If Edward was truly a changed man, it was nothing short of a miracle.

But his jealousy had dissipated when he realized how soft, how pliable she still was under his touch. And how good she felt. He had been in ecstasy after not having her for so long. For a few moments, it was almost as if nothing had changed. 

Then reality had hit, and she had had to return to her husband's bed, and he to his own.

Even if he never got to touch her again, he would be satisfied knowing she still loved him, even if she couldn't show it.

_If I die tomorrow, Sylvie, I can die knowing I still have your heart._

***********

Sylvie was thankful that Edward was asleep when she slipped into his bed. 

She didn't think she would be able to speak with him without arousing his suspicion. She had considered sleeping in her own bed tonight, but, having not slept there in quite a while, she knew that would cause him to be suspicious, as well.

So here she was, stiffly lying next to her husband while still feeling the sensation of another man's hands on her body. 

She knew she should feel ashamed, but she didn't. Guilty, maybe. But not ashamed. 

She loved Brett, and probably always would. Though she would no longer let him lay claim to her body, for tonight had been a moment of weakness, he still had her heart, and that would have to be enough.

**********

The next morning, Sylvie awoke before Edward. Watching him sleep, she knew she could never tell him about her and Brett. It would break his heart.

So when his eyes finally fluttered open, she smiled at him, reaching out to touch his face. "Good morning," she said. "It's your birthday today."

Giving her a tired smile, he said, "How old am I again?"

"Too old," she teased.

Laughing lightly, he leaned up on his elbow, lazily looking down at her. "You look beautiful this morning, my dear."

When he reached for her, she was grateful Brett had not left any lasting marks. He had always been careful that way.

Moving to straddle her, he kissed her once before pulling away slightly, his lips hovering just above hers. "Let me taste you," he whispered, before his mouth consumed hers, his tongue mingling with hers.

As his lips finally left hers, leaving her breathless, he sat up, watching her. "Edward, please," she said, her desire growing. Her voice low now as she pulled him down again, she said, "Don't keep me waiting."

**********

That evening, Edward and Sylvie walked into the great hall arm in arm. 

"Make sure not to get _too_ drunk tonight," she had whispered to him beforehand, giving him a knowing smile. "I might need help getting out of this dress later."

His face had turned red as he caught her insinuation.

Upon entering, she was happy to see that everything had come together perfectly for her husband's birthday: the decorations, the food, the music, the dozens of guests. They happily greeted those that approached them, thanking them for coming. 

Dinner served tonight was roasted duck, Edward's favorite. After eating dessert, which consisted of pudding and small pastries, couples stood up to dance as the string musicians began to play a minuet.

Placing her hands around his neck as he took her small waist in his hands, they began to slowly dance around the room. 

Looking into his eyes, Sylvie teasingly pinched the back of his neck, and struggled to hold in a laugh as he stifled a yelp. He shook his head, smiling.

He leaned down to whisper in her ear. "If you keep doing that, I may just have to pull you out of here earlier than planned." She could almost hear the smirk in his voice before he raised his head, acting as if nothing had happened.

Once the piece of music stopped and the next one began, she said to him, "Would you accompany me back to the table? I would like to finish my drink."

"Of course," he said, as she took his offered arm.

As they approached the table, she reached for her cup, not noticing that it was a different one than was at her place before. 

Taking a sip, she immediately noticed a strange taste, and her vision began to blur. She blinked, but it didn't go away. Her throat beginning to close, she roughly gripped Edward's arm, who suddenly noticed her distress.

"Sylvie, what's wrong?" he said as he grabbed her shoulders. "Are you..."

Her vision darkening, she gasped, trying in vain to draw in a breath. "I... I can't... breathe..."

He managed to catch her before she collapsed to the floor.

***********

Edward briefly saw her struggle before she lost consciousness. 

By now, several guests had begun to take notice of her situation, and were nervously speaking amongst themselves as they gathered. 

Panicking, he yelled, "Someone call for a physician! Now!"

The servants that heard him hurried out of the hall to do his bidding. 

He gently laid her on the floor, pressing his ear to her chest. _Dear god, she's not breathing._ And her pulse was weak. Looking at her face, he saw it had no color. The life was draining from her, and he could do nothing but watch. 

"Sylvie, please," he whispered. "I need you. Please..."

_What brought this on? It was so sudden._

_We ate, we danced, we walked to the table, we drank. We both did the same things._

_The last thing she did was swallow the last bit of her wine. But, no, that couldn't be it. Could it?_

Reaching up to grab the cup she had so abruptly set down, he put his nose to it, smelling something unusual.

 _Goddammit._ Scrambling to his feet, his vision blurring with unshed tears, he yelled, "My wife has been poisoned, and I _will_ find out who is behind this! They will pay with their life!"

Falling to his knees at her side, he took her hand, now cold and lifeless.

A few minutes later, the physician arrived to attend to her.

He was too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. This story still has a few chapters left. I appreciate your patience as I overcome writer’s block. :)


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: self-harm

Brett watched her fall. 

He and others of his station had attended the celebration, sitting at a table separate from the rest. He had watched her eat with Edward, laugh with him, dance with him. But Brett knew it didn't mean anything. Not when she didn't love him.

He had studied her movements in that dress that hugged her chest and waist so perfectly, her hair that framed her face just right, her nimble steps as she moved across the floor.

Then she had returned to the table to take a drink. From across the room, Brett could see that she was in distress before watching her collapse, with Edward narrowly catching her before she could hit the floor.

Immediately concerned, his first instinct was to run over and help her, but he knew that would only draw unwanted attention to the both of them. 

He couldn't see her from his angle, so he stood up and walked over to where a few people had gathered, watching and waiting, nervously talking amongst themselves.

By the time the physician Edward had called for arrived, Brett was trying to hide his panic. _Why hasn't she moved? Is she... is she breathing?_

After examining Sylvie for several minutes, the physician turned to Edward, quietly saying words Brett could not hear. But when Edward hung his head and placed his hands over his face, Brett felt his stomach fill with dread. _No..._

Tears blurring his vision, he walked over to where Edward and the physician were kneeling, no longer caring what people might think. Kneeling down beside them, he asked, "Is she... is she gone?"

The physician stared at him, perhaps wondering who he was and why he cared, while Edward's head turned sharply in his direction, recognition flickering in his eyes. Turning his head back to look at his wife, he emotionlessly said, "Yes. She's dead."

Despair filling him, Brett resisted the urge to touch her one last time. Instead, he stood up, backing away, not wanting to believe it was true. Taking one last look at her, he turned on his heel, running out of the hall. 

_I have to get out of here. I can't stay. I can't. I can't. I won't._

Blindly making his way to his room, he stripped out of his nicer clothing, instead opting for something comfortable. Packing what little he had with him into his small bag and throwing it over his shoulder, he ran for the stables, saddling and mounting his horse in record time. He would ride to the army camp, whether or not they wanted him back yet.

He raced out of the castle gates, drawing strange looks from the guards nearby. Once he was far enough away, the palace but a small speck in the distance, he allowed his tears to fall and a guttural cry to escape his throat.

"Why? Why her? Why not _me_?" _She didn't deserve any of this._

Continuing on through the night only until his horse tired, he came to a stop beside a small creek, not unlike the one he and Sylvie and Sophie had frolicked in so long ago.

Allowing his horse to drink, he sat down beside it, tears still coming freely. _I can't live without her._

Misery consuming him, he stood up again after a few minutes, searching through the belongings in his bag that hung from the horse's saddle. Pulling out his dagger, he unsheathed it, turning it over, watching as the partial moonlight glinted off the metal. 

Sylvie's final moments running through his head, he ran his finger down the edge of the small blade, blood seeping from the fresh wound. He hardly felt it. Sticking his finger in his mouth, he licked the blood off.

_This won't work._

Setting the blade down, he removed his shirt. Once again gripping the dagger, he positioned the blade parallel to his chest, savoring the feeling of the cold metal against his skin. Heart pounding, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, steadying himself. Tears still falling down his face, he steeled his resolve, gritting his teeth in pain as he drew the blade across his chest.

Blood welled from the long cut. He sighed as he began to feel the sting. _No use in prolonging this._

Wrapping both of his hands around the blade's grip, he shakily turned it around to point at his chest and over his heart. His breathing coming faster and his mind foggy, he raised the weapon, preparing himself for the pain, when he swore he heard a voice.

_No more._

Overwhelmed, he dropped the blade and fell to his knees, praying for the first time in years.

***********

His wife was dead. _Sylvie is gone. I can't believe it._

Edward was devastated. But more than anything, he was angry at whoever had taken her from him so soon. _I will find out who did this, and I will make them suffer._

He had just returned from visiting his young son, who did not yet understand what it meant for his mother to be gone forever. Closing his door behind him, he fell to his knees yet again, sobs tearing from his throat. _I loved her._

Her funeral would be in a few days, and until then, he would mourn in private. He felt that he needed to appear strong before everyone else.

_If only I hadn't pushed her away in the beginning, we would have had more time together._ He cursed himself for having initially treated her so poorly, feeling the regret more strongly now than ever before.

He recalled that morning when they had made love for the last time, wishing he had fully expressed his love for her. He had hesitated to tell her, but now he would never have the opportunity again.

Stripping down to his underclothes, he lay on her side of the bed, breathing in her scent that still lingered, his tears soaking the sheets.

He knew then that he could never replace her.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: violence/blood

It was nearly evening when Brett arrived at the camp a couple of days later, nearly starving, the cut on his chest aching.

He led his horse to the area just outside the camp where the others were kept, hopping off and stretching his legs. Grabbing his bag of belongings, he began the search for food.

Walking past scores of tents, he finally saw some familiar faces sitting around a fire, the smell of meat causing his stomach to growl. Approaching them, the men looked up, a few of them recognizing him. 

"Hello, mate! Back so soon, are you?" said one. 

Brett stood there awkwardly for a moment before responding. "Um, yes, I suppose I am. Do you mind if I join you?"

"Of course not! Come, sit."

He was offered some beef and ale, which he more than happily accepted. He ate in silence, feeling eyes on him. When he finished, he looked up, meeting the eyes of one of his friends who had been with him at the brothel not so long ago.

Shifting uncomfortably, he waited for the questions to come.

"So why are you really back, Brett?" His friend appeared somewhat concerned.

Brett cleared his throat. "Oh, something happened at home. I couldn't stay," he said, being as vague as possible.

His friend continued to look at him curiously, Brett's answer clearly not satisfying him.

Another man chuckled. "What, did your woman kick you out?"

Brett clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to say something he would regret later. "Mate, I don't have a woman."

"Then what's the deal?"

He sighed. "If it's all the same to you, I'd rather not talk about it."

An awkward silence ensued. Brett fidgeted with his hands, listening to the crackle of the fire in front of him. One by one the men stood up and left to return to their tents to sleep until only his one friend remained. 

"Brett, you don't have anywhere to sleep, do you?" he said quietly. "Why don't you stay in my tent tonight, with me? You look exhausted."

Brett nodded. "Thank you. I appreciate it," he said, still looking at his hands.

"Well, come on then. We need to rest up. Big day tomorrow."

Perking up at his words, Brett asked, "Do we fight tomorrow?"

The man nodded. "Yes, a couple of miles away in one of those fields. We're expected to be there bright and early."

 _Yes. I need this._ Anything to make him forget.

Reaching the tent, Brett saw it only had the one cot. "I can sleep on the ground tonight," his friend said. "You take the bed. Looks like you need it more than I do."

He didn't argue, falling asleep nearly as soon as his pulled the blanket over his tired body. 

*********

Waking up before sunrise the next morning, Brett decided he would practice some drills before they were required to get in formation to march. 

He challenged his friend to a mock duel. It was a close fight, with Brett besting him after several minutes. "I'd be afraid if I was your enemy out there today," the man said in an attempt to be lighthearted.

Brett managed a small smile at the compliment.

*********

Nearly ready to march to the battle sight, Brett stood in formation with the other soldiers. He was technically in charge of a small group of men, but since he wasn't exactly supposed to have returned yet, he stood among his friends.

As his commander passed by him, he did a double take upon seeing him. "Yang, aren't you supposed to be home?"

Brett sighed. "I'm here now. Where do you want me?"

The commander, taken aback by his willingness, paused for a moment before saying, "Very well. I'll have you take charge of the group of men on the front lines. Don't let me down."

_I won't._

***********

A couple of hours later, Brett stood on the front lines, his men on either side of him. As the horn sounded, he led the charge, his pulse pounding in his ears. He wasn't surprised to feel tears threatening yet again. 

_I'm fighting for you, Sylvie. Can you see me?_

His first opponent, appearing to be about his age, was hardly a match for him. He matched the man blow for blow, finally spotting a lethal opportunity. Parrying him one more time, blocking the soldier's weapon with his shield, Brett thrust his sword into the man's chest, quickly pulling it out as he dodged another enemy's swing, not missing a beat.

This time, he swung his sword up, aiming for the man's neck. Hitting its mark and cutting through skin and muscle, Brett felt the soldier's blood spatter on his face. He wiped his face with the back of his hand, breathing heavily, adrenaline coursing through his veins.

The next half an hour saw one of the bloodiest battles Brett had ever fought. Both sides had lost a great deal of men, and he honestly wasn't sure who had the advantage. In his peripheral, he frequently saw the men beside him fall, including many a friend and acquaintance. 

Though he was practically hardened to the loss of life, today it was getting to him. He felt himself becoming angrier with each opponent he faced as he considered the fact that these men were most likely dying for a cause they knew little about. 

His normally high stamina was now running low, and he chalked it up to his mental state of the past couple of days. Continuing to cut down opponents, his arms began to feel heavier with each one he faced. He became slightly distracted as his mind began to fog up. He blinked in an attempt to clear it, with no luck.

Stepping up and swinging his sword at a man much taller than him, he miscalculated his aim, missing his opponent by inches. This was to the man's advantage and enabled him to catch Brett off guard with a blow to his shield, causing him to drop it. 

Brett should have panicked, but he didn't. He had expected this moment to come. Almost hoped for it, in fact.

Gripping his weapon with both hands now, he continued to block each blow, but was unable to strike one himself as it would leave him vulnerable.

He was becoming weary, and his opponent noticed. With a heavy swing, the man was able to strike Brett's sword in just the right spot, causing him to lose his grip on it as it fell to the ground. 

Brett swallowed heavily. _This is it._

He took several steps back and managed to dodge several blows as the man continued to advance on him. But soon enough, his luck ran out, the sword hitting home into his upper arm. As he grit his teeth in pain, he saw out of the corner of his eye the man already preparing for another swing, his sword raised to the side.

As the blade arced through the air, Brett closed his eyes, accepting his fate. 

_Sylvie, I'm coming. Wait for me._

A sliver of pain as the blade sliced his neck before he fell to the ground. 

Then, nothing at all.


	26. Chapter 26

It was dark. 

Attempting to open his eyes and struggling with the effort, Brett soon gave up and willed sleep to overtake him yet again. If what he had been experiencing could even be called sleep, that is.

Nothing felt real anymore, save for the unbearable pain that overtook him the few times he would briefly regain consciousness and sensation in his body. He was unaware of anything else, unable to think. The intensity of _feeling_ caused him to wish for death to take him.

_If it hasn't already._

Slipping into unconsciousness yet again, he quickly allowed the familiar darkness to envelope him. 

Until, inexplicably, he felt a presence in the midst of his delirium. A body slowly sinking into the mattress beside him, a light touch to his face, a voice softly calling to him.

_A familiar voice._

Now he knew for sure he was dead. Though that didn't explain why he was still in so much pain. _Isn't death supposed to take the pain away?_

He tried to shake his head to rid himself of the confusion, unsure if the attempt manifested itself physically or not. _It doesn't matter._ The only thing that mattered was the voice that was piercing through the fog in his head.

_The voice I never thought I'd hear again._

His eyes now opening with minimal effort, he felt himself choke up at the vision before him.

"S... Sylvie?" 

He slowly slipped his hand over to reach hers, unsure if any of this was real. A cold hand met his weak one, lightly squeezing, sending small pricks of electricity through his arm. 

His vision traveling from the joining of their hands up to her face, Brett finally met her eyes, seeing the familiar crinkles at their corners as she smiled down at him.

"You've certainly looked better."

He managed a small smile at her words, relishing in the sound of her voice, not missing her teasing tone.

Plagued by pain, he knew he must look a sight. But he couldn't be bothered to worry about that now.

"Are you... are you real?" He knew he probably sounded silly, but he didn't care.

She laughed softly, the sound music to his ears. "As real as you want me to be."

Contemplating her words, he painfully forced himself to lean up on his elbow, moving their hands apart in the process. "Stay with me," he said.

Reaching for his hand again, she spoke. "You fought for me. Why?"

The question confused him. The answer seemed obvious to him, really. "Your memory was the only thing keeping me going, pushing me forward. I had no other motivation but you." He felt himself choke up but continued speaking. "I would've ended things myself that night by the creek if I hadn't heard you urging me to stop."

A tear fell down his cheek. He didn't bother wiping it away, his voice now a whisper as she looked at him sadly. "Why did you stop me? I could've returned to you sooner. That's all I wanted."

More tears fell before he felt her soft hand on his face, urging him to look up at her. A moment passed before she simply said, "It wasn't an end you deserved."

He searched her face, confusion etched into his features. "But dying alone on a battlefield was?"

Shaking her head, she said, "Brett, you deserve a happy ending. You deserve to continue on." She paused, letting her words sink in. "Promise me. Promise me you will live. _Really_ live."

He met her eyes, his still glassy from both shed and unshed tears. _So I'm not... I'm alive?_

"I didn't die? But I..."

"No, Brett. You didn't." She smiled once again. "But I want you to promise me that you will live. I want you to experience life to the fullest so that you can tell me all about it when we see each other again."

He fought back the tears that threatened as he listened to her words. Although knowing that the next time they would meet wouldn't be until his own death, he felt the last thing he could do for his love was to fulfill her wish. 

"I promise." His voice caught as he spoke, knowing there was no going back. Whispering now, he said again, "I promise you."

Squeezing his eyes shut, he let his tears fall onto the bed beneath him. Feeling movement next to him, he kept his eyes closed, unwilling to watch her leave him. But instead, she moved closer to him.

Feeling the soft pressure of her lips on his, his eyes flew open as she pulled away.

The last thing he heard before drifting back into unconsciousness was her sweet, melodic voice. 

"This isn't goodbye."

***********

In his dreamless state, Brett had no knowledge of time passing. So when he finally woke up and was able to open his eyes, he had no clue how long he had been lying there.

He did notice, though, that he must be back at the army camp. The tent housing him and a few other injured men looked familiar. 

He attempted to sit up by placing pressure on the arm that didn't hurt, but quickly gave up as a searing pain tore through his chest and abdomen. He saw the large bandage wrapped around his torso, trying to recall how he had acquired that particular injury but coming up blank. A bandage covered the entire upper part of his left arm as well, causing him to remember the slice of his opponent's sword as it hit bone. He shivered.

Then, he remembered. The enemy blade swinging towards his neck the last thing he could recall before nothingness had taken over him. His right hand moved to lightly touch his throat, feeling the roughness of the bandages there. _How... why am I still alive?_

Lost in his thoughts, he failed to notice someone walking in his direction.

"You're awake. Finally."

His head instinctively jerked to look in the direction of the voice, causing him to immediately flinch in pain. 

The young woman must have noticed his pained expression. "My apologies. I didn't mean to surprise you. It's just, well, you were so badly injured, and I thought your fever would never break."

Her voice sounded distantly familiar. He furrowed his brow. "My fever..."

"Yes." He felt a dainty hand gently touch his forehead and face before pulling away. "But it appears to have broken."

That much was true, as the heavy fog in his mind had lifted. But he still wondered about one thing.

"Why am I here? How did I not die? My neck..." He knew they were questions she probably didn't have answers for, but he felt the need to ask nonetheless. He reached up to touch his throat again.

The young woman, now sitting on the empty cot next to his, looked down at her hands, folded in her lap. "All I know is that another soldier carried you off the battlefield after you received your injury. That's what I was told, at least."

Brett hummed in response. He had promised Sylvie he would live, so he supposed he should be grateful for the unknown man's actions. 

"Do you know this man's name? Where is he? I should thank him..."

"He was seriously injured as well. I don't know how he managed to carry you with him." She sighed. "He died two days ago."

Brett didn't know what to say. He could only manage one word. "Oh."

"I'm sorry. I wish I had more to tell you." 

He conjured up a weak smile. "It's alright."

As she stood, he finally took a moment to really look at the young woman who had apparently been nursing him through his injuries and fever. He squinted, trying to think of why he vaguely recognized her voice.

Before she could turn to leave him, he heard himself quietly say, "Wait."

He wasn't sure if she had heard him at first, but after a moment she said, "Yes?"

He paused. "Do I know you?"


End file.
